Burning Bridges
by commandmetobewell
Summary: After being rescued from Yamatai, Lara and Sam weave their way through the devastating effects of their traumatizing experiences. Their recovery is arduous and long, but it doesn't end with just bandages and therapists. They have to go back to where it all began. A multi-chapter continuation of my one-shot, "I Made You a Promise". Rated T but will have some mature content included.
1. Waking Up: Sam

**A/N: **By request, I've made this into a multi-chaptered story. This is a continuation from my one-shot, "_I Made You a Promise_", so if you haven't read that yet, go read it and then come back here! This story takes place roughly four weeks after the women are rescued from Yamatai. This story is going to look at Lara and Sam trying to find out the secrets behind Lara's father's true career, and how her parents disappeared. It's going to be a lot darker and more violent than the game's original rating, so that's why I'm setting it for mature audiences. The first few chapters will be focused heavily on their joint recovery (both mentally and physically) before it kicks into the drama/action/suspense. I am so thankful for all of you that left such lovely reviews on that piece I wrote yesterday. Holy cow! You're awesome, all of you. I hope you guys like this story. I have had so much fun writing it so far :)

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**Osaka, Japan**

Warm sunlight filters through the shut blinds of the window in the small, private space. The room is quiet and unmoving but still somehow manages to be loud and dynamic with tortured memories. The past few days and nights have been nothing short of restless; both of you caught between feverish dreams and nightmares terrifying enough to leave deep scores in both of your sanities. Therapists and psychiatrists have come and gone, but no one can alleviate the sicknesses brewing in your minds. The morning sun doesn't make you feel comforted, however. Nothing can ease the tension that knots your muscles together. Your head tilts up first, your dark hair (now shaggy and long as you had refused to cut it) gently falling to cover the left side of your face. Your eyes squint through the musky light. You let a soft grumble break your lips as you look to the taller, broader woman laying unconscious on the bed beside you.

You glance down to Lara's hand, lightly clutching your slightly cooler skin. At the slightest squeeze, you feel Lara stir gently, a quiet moan parting her chapped lips. The sound is equivalent to nails raking down a chalkboard. It causes you to recoil, but before you can leap off the small hospital bed, Lara's hand grips yours lightly. You sigh lowly and hang your head, pressing a soft kiss to your friend's bandaged forehead, internally thanking whatever God out there that she'd managed to get better. Lara moans again, but this time it's strained with agony.

"Ssh," you murmur soothingly, kissing Lara's temple, "ssh, Lara. You're okay, baby."

"S-Sam," your name is scratchy and raw as it makes its way past Lara's trembling lips. You don't need to ask to know what she needs. You give her a loving nod and another peck to her cheek.

Slipping off the bed and ignoring the ache in your back from the constant, uncomfortable sleep you've been having for the past few weeks, you clamber over to the desk and reach for the water glass, bending the straw inside so that it can reach Lara's chapped mouth. You watch worriedly as she struggles to gulp down a few swallows. She's so eager that a few droplets of water dribble down past her chin and she coughs. You wipe the moisture away with the soft brush of your thumb as you remove the straw for a moment. Lara whines out tenderly, her throat still raw and in need of liquid relief. You bring the straw back again, watching her carefully.

"Slowly, sweetheart," you coo as Lara drinks too fast, causing her to choke. Your breath quivers as she wheezes. You stroke her shoulder until she can breathe normally again. Putting the glass back, you walk over to the windows and open the curtains a fraction. The light nearly blinds you, and immediately, thoughts of your adventure (and near-deaths) fill the void in your mind.

Fear slashes through your body like a lightening bolt, and for a moment you're back at Yamatai. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you hear her voice in your ear, calling to you. You feel her cold fingers wrapping around your throat, constricting the air from your weary lungs. She sucks the life out of you and fills your being with her own tainted form. You can hear the storms in the back of your mind, violent and unforgiving. Something in the pit of your gut swims and churns with anxiety as you fight the urge to cry or shout or run. You tense and clutch the handle of the curtain with a tighter grip, willing the panic to go away. You need it to go away. You suck air between gritted teeth as your skin tingles with trepidation. Your eyes don't - _can't_ \- close, because you knows what you'll see if you give into the retched temptation. You are nauseas and unsteady on your feet as you push the panic away.

_Dammit_, you plead with yourself in a near cry, _when will it go away_? As much as you want to say that things get better with time, you know that this is an exception. This, these painful memories, this loss and grief, they won't _ever_ go away. You just wonder if it will bring you down, reduce you to nothing but brittle bones and aching muscles. You can't afford to find out. You shake your head and will yourself to stop draining your energy in the past. Gaining your footing, you grip the handle of the curtain tighter. It serves as the sturdy mast holding your ship together as you whether the storm brewing inside your damaged soul. Instead of closing your eyelids, you glue your stare to the linoleum of the floor, counting backwards from ten as your mother had once taught you.

"Sam?" Lara croaks from her bedside, drawing you away from your thoughts.

You knows she's just a steps from your quivering body, but her voice sounds so distant, so broken. Yamatai has changed the both of you, and as much as you want to dance around the subject, you know that you won't ever be that fraternizing college girl, nor will she ever be the innocent archaeologist. The realization came a fortnight ago, when you awoke to Lara thrashing and screaming in her sleep. You held her body to yours, ignoring her frail limbs as they attempted to swat you away. You stayed by her and murmured sweet nothings into her ears, trying to bring her out of her nightmare. The terrors come almost every second night, and it's so bad that you wonder if Lara _ever_ sleeps. You're also plagued by that crippling fear, the feeling of Himiko reaching down and grasping at the very essence of your soul and choking it. You see Mathias and Nikolai and all those other bastard men in any able-bodied male, bare for Jonah.

You faintly shake your head and take a deep breath. You promised Lara that you'd be there for her. Lara long carried the physical end of injuries on that cursed island, and you owe it to her to carry the emotional ones. Her burdens become yours as you find strength in her presence. You pack up all your insecurities and doubts as you release your grip on the wooden handle. Licking over your chapped lips, you wipe your brow and loosen the tense knots in your shoulders. You slowly pivot on your foot and face your best friend with a feigned smile.

"Morning, love," you say as affectionately as you can, walking up to Lara with light steps. Your sneakers that Reyes had brought on her last visit scuff against the ground. The sound is domestic, and you allow yourself the joy of letting it remind you of simpler things, simpler times, simpler places; places you'll never see again, people you'll never speak to, things you'll come to find impossible to understand. When you make contact with her, it's hard to not break apart.

You're both so different now, aged beyond your years, wracked by trauma and loss.

You've become time bombs, ticking away until you explode.

You don't want to know who's time runs out first.

Lara's eyes are puffy from the bruises and inflammation and you can see that it's paining her to just breathe. Her entire body is practically covered in white or beige bandages. Some of her lighter cuts that no longer require coverings are scabbing over. There's not one piece of her that has remained untouched by Mathias' unforgivable wrath. You feel rage seep into your bones for a moment. As you look at her, her eyes glazed but staring, you want to go back to that man and shred him into pieces. You want to burn his body and that retched island to the ground, to stick his head on a pike, to bring him back to life only to slaughter him lawlessly for having brought such pain and death upon your best friend and your family. You are so angry at him, at _her_, at the world, for tearing you both apart.

You are just _so_ angry.

Lara becomes aware that you're creeping into your dark place. Lara's high off painkillers most the time (to which she protests daily by saying she doesn't need them, but you both know she desperately does), but she's not stupid. She saved you through figuring out puzzles and riddles, after all. She knows that in your shattered mind, you're just as unhinged as she is. Sometimes you wonder if Himiko's spirit is still trapped inside you, waiting to feed on your lifeblood until she bleeds you dry. You shiver at the thought. You can't go there right now._ Lara needs you_, you remind yourself,_ just hold it together for a moment, Sam_. You suck in a sharp breath and nod at your friend, meeting her eyes with a gentle smile. Lara doesn't look convinced but she's too weak to fight you. Her fever has broken and her body is slowly repairing itself, but the process has been arduous and agonizingly painful. You feel for her, you really do. It hurts you that all you can do is sit and watch as she fights through the remoulding of her flesh and bones.

Before either of you can say anything else, the door opens and in walks the nurse with her tray of concoctions and bandages. Lara groans again, this time in irritation. A scowl is painted across her face as she shoots daggers at the unsympathetic nurse. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at her childish behaviour as Lara shuts her eyes dramatically before turning her face away. You try to send her a glare, but Lara's not paying you any attention. Sucking a lip between your teeth, you huff out a muted scorn and instead turn to the nurse, greeting her kindly in Japanese. You both converse for a few moments, speaking about basic things - Lara's recovery, the coverage of the rescue, the date for her release. The nurse is kind enough to let you know that Lara will be good to go in a week's time at the most, though she will still need assistance and care, which of course you will provide; the tone of her voice suggests to you that she understands just how restless Lara has become during her stay.

_You don't have to remind me_, you think as the nurse looks over to Lara with a sigh. Lara's just as petulant as she was when she was a child. _Once a Croft, always a Croft_, you scoff internally.

After dosing her up with the regular cocktail of morphine, antibiotics, and nutrients through her IV, drawing a blood sample, and changing the major bandage upon her torso, the nurse promptly leaves you both alone again. You walk over to the overnight bag at the far end of the room, scrummaging inside for your cell phone. You fish it out and send a quick text to Jonah to let him know of the news. He replies curtly, letting you know that he'll be up soon with some food and another overnight bag for you. He's stopped trying to convince you to take a break from being in the hospital. Everyone knows that you're not budging. You sigh warmly with gratitude as you pocket your cellphone before returning to Lara, who is staring at the wall, avoiding your eye contact.

_Great_, you think, _now she's going to throw a tantrum_.

You go to scold her, but then you catch the glazing of her eyes again. Your lungs concave as you see that she's fighting back tears. You stiffen for a moment, clenching your jaw to ward off your own demons so you can help protect her from her own. You muster up the strength and patience you need as you calmly step towards her. Lara is still, her breathing quickening by a slight pace. Everything in your body wants to jump into that bed and cuddle the shit out of her, but that won't help Lara. You know Lara has always been difficult, and this is just another massive challenge.

"Lara," you start in a soft tone, not wanting to alarm your friend. Lara doesn't move, but her breath hitches again. You shift on your feet, trying to figure out the best approach to reach her. She's not lost in her memories yet, but you can tell that she's on the borderline. You stop and reassess your options, calculating the consequences and outcomes of every move. You're an avid chess player and mathematician, amongst your film career. It was the only subject you ever really cared for. Lara taught you how to write a proper paper and in turn, you taught her probability and trigonometry. You rummage through the numbers until you find a suitable tactic.

"Lara, I know you hate it here," you force the words out of your mouth as you inch closer to the small inclined mattress. You see Lara's body stiffen and you pause. _Okay_, you think as you recalculate, _off the bed it is, then_. You sit in the chair again, ignoring the dull ache at the small of your back. You stare at the bandage wrapped around her shoulder for a moment before you continue.

"You… you've just got to let them help you, okay?" You plead with her, but Lara is stubborn. Lara has always been stubborn. You hang your head and let out an exasperated groan.

"Lara…," you trail off, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. Lara doesn't look over, but purses her lips as your breath hitches. You watch her fingers grip at the sheet, tangling them between her digits as she curls her hand into a tight fist. For a moment, you think you can see the fire of rage glowing over her pale skin as she trembles in frustration.

"I… I need to find out what happened to them," Lara rasps hotly under her breath. Your head jerks up as you look over at your friend with a glowering scowl. _This is not the time for another life-threatening 'adventure', Lara, _you think as tears burn at your irises, _not after I nearly lost you, dammit_! You want to say the words but they can't come out because now Lara's looking at you, her gaze void of any emotion.

"I'd spent all those years hating him, Sam," Lara chokes out between gasping breaths. You fight the urge to reach for her and instead focus on repeating to yourself that Lara needs space. Lara closes her eyes as panic takes her, coiling around her spine and neck like a snake. You can almost see her body being crushed with the force of the attack, and it rips you to shreds. Still, you coerce yourself into remaining stoic and silent, allowing Lara to draw whatever tranquility she can from your neutral form. Her eyes suck the life out of you, but soon enough, she's fought through it.

"You know I don't want to go," she murmurs silently, dropping her head into her chest as her tone changes from frustrated to feeble and weak. She wants to convince you and herself that's a lie, but you can spot her bullshit from miles away. Lara always was a terrible liar. You watch in silence as she takes a breath and looks up at you sheepishly, almost like a child when caught in the act of committing a mistake.

"But I have to, Sam," she concludes, closing her eyes. "I can't fight it anymore. I have to find out what happened to them. I… I need answers, Sam." Her words prick at you as you process everything. Calculating your options again takes more than a brief second, but it's enough time for you to know what you need to say. Lara waits patiently, sniffling as she glances up at you apprehensively.

"Lara," you whisper as you rise from your seat slowly. She waits some more, and from the look in her shimmering citrine eyes - fear laced by defensiveness - you know that she's expecting you to reject her. You're Samantha Nishimura, and everyone, especially Lara, knows you're _far_ from predictable.

"I love you," you tell her, because you both need to hear it. Lara gasps at the words as you lean part of your weight over her. You're careful of her bandages and of the machines as you curl up into her side. She's got half a head over you, broader shoulders, and defined muscles. Her body isn't like any of the guys or girls you've previously dated. You spend a moment just looking at her, absorbing her beauty. You skirt your fingers up her bare arm, causing her to shiver. Her eyes close loosely as you bite your lip, feeling the tears well in your eyes. You hate seeing her like this, and despite your nagging fear, you know that no matter what it takes, you'd be willing to let her do it if it gave her peace.

"You were dead, Lara," you tell her quietly, even though she already knows. Lara stays silent, but she's listening, _always_ listening. You swallow back your own fear and think about your next move. You don't look at her as you urge yourself to continue.

"After all that happened on the island," you begin to stumble on your words. _Keep it together, Sam_, you think to yourself, _you need Lara to know how you really feel_. You shake your head and force your way through the painful memories of the past few weeks.

"After losing, Alex, Grim, Roth," you list their names slowly, gauging Lara's reaction as you go. She remains stoic, but when you get through all three names, _especially_ Roth's, you see her flinch for a moment. You fumble with her bedsheets with your spare hand as you say, "after seeing them die, Lara, after watching _you_ die, I… I can't do that again, Lara. Not when I love you the amount I do."

"Sam," she tries to cut you off, but you glare at her, your eyes steaming with tears.

"_No_, Lara," you hiss through gritted teeth, "you made me a promise, dammit."

"And I kept it," Lara says, slightly confused and somewhat agitated.

"No," you argue against her roughly. At some point, you're asking yourself what's the point of all this. Each time you want to convince yourself that there is no point in fighting against these painful struggles, you see her, feel her, hear her, and you're thrust back into the reason why you _keep_ fighting. You stare at her with confidence, even though you're still shaking slightly from her proximity to you.

"No," you repeat in a softer voice, "you haven't, Lara. We're not home yet. We're… I don't know what we are. After you saved me… you… that _kiss_," you stumble on the word and avoid her gaze. Lara flinches. You've struck a sore nerve. You shake your head and continue.

"We can't keep avoiding this, Lara," you say to her in a quiet plea, "we need… _I_ need, I… just…, _fuck_, Lara. You mean so much to me and I love you with every vessel of blood in my body, but somedays I look at you and I can't help but feel scared that you don't reciprocate. It makes me wonder if I've just been as stupid and naive as everyone thinks I am all along."

You promised yourself you wouldn't let her see you like this until she was strong enough, but you're desperate. Lara takes one look at you and her body suddenly tenses, her breath quivering. Your eyes dart to her lips for a moment as you reach an impasse in your plan to get through to her. You feel her breath lightly pattering against the tip of your nose and you're lost in the sensation. You're so close, but she feels so far away. You look back to her eyes and then dip your head in defeat. You've run out of rope and you're falling short, unable to cling on any longer.

As always, Lara swoops in to save the day.

"Hey," her voice is a gentle hum. You feel her arms around tighten around you, and you immediately fold in her embrace. Damn you for being so quick to melt in her grasp. Damn you for falling for her. You can't hold back anymore as you take to sobbing against her chest.

"I fucking _love_ you, Lara," you cry as you flatten your palms over her delicately crafted collarbones. Lara's murmuring sweet nothings in your ear as one of her hands softly rubs over the small of your back, soothing you. _Idiot_, you scorn to yourself, _you were supposed to be comforting _her, _not the other way around_. But you're Sam. Unpredictable Sam.

You're _always_ unpredictable, even to yourself.

"I meant every letter, Sam," Lara whispers gently, placing a soft kiss to your temple. Her lips are shaking slightly, but her voice is calm and steady. You press closer to her, closing your eyes. Himiko and Mathias are there again, causing you to jerk your eyes back open again. A shuddering breath releases from your parted lips and Lara grips you tighter.

Lara's other hand reaches for your chin and tilts your face upwards so that you're both at eye level. You stare into those glistening hazel orbs, searching for something to reassure you. You see her love for you shining through and you scold yourself for ever doubting her. Lara's thumb brushes over the line of your jaw as she leans in closer. Your lips are micrometers apart. You're just far apart that you're not touching her, but you are close enough to feel her _everywhere_.

"My love for you preceded Yamatai, Sam," Lara mumbles, looking to your lips.

You freeze.

She hasn't admitted this to you before. Lara ignores your surprise and nods, allowing your lips to brush ever so lightly. Electricity fires up and down your veins and for a moment, you wonder if Himiko is inside of you again. The hand curled around your back squeezes and you're grateful that Lara reads you as well as she does. You remain silent as Lara clears her throat. She's nervous. Any other day, you'd laugh and say, _Lara Croft? Nervous? I guess pigs fly after all_. But, she _is_ anxious and it's so endearing it makes your heart swell in a way it's never done before. You feel her fingers trembling as she traces the soft lines of the freckled scars upon your skin.

"I never had boyfriends, Sam," she whispers, even though it's only the two of you in the room. "I've never really been interested in them in general, actually." She laughs at that, a nervous chuckle. You realize you've never heard a sweeter sound in your entire life. She shakes her head, causing your noses to brush in a gentle but accidental eskimo-kiss. Your fingers tangle in the long locks of chestnut brown hair that spill over her shoulders. You're careful to avoid the places that they had to stitch up as you weave your way to clutch the back of her head lightly.

"I… I'd just see you day after day," Lara speaks again, some confidence renewed to her voice as she looks down into you. The gaze she locks you in is dizzying enough to make your stomach swim with butterflies desperate for release. You can't speak as she purses her lips slowly.

"It didn't matter to me that I wasn't with anyone, Sam. All that mattered was you. All that ever matters to me is you, and when they took you…," she pauses as her chest contracts with the flashback. She steadies herself as she struggles to say in a hushed rasp, "It didn't matter to me what I had to do, Sam. I'd go back and do it again if I had to. I'd never be able to leave you, sweetheart. You're the light in my life. You're the only reminder I have that better things do exist. You're my hope, my motivation, my muse. I love you, darling. Always, I'll love you, Sam. I'll always come for you. I'll always protect you, my love. You're all I have left."

You know romance isn't her forte but as you listen to her speak, you're sobbing from happiness and endearment. Lara's trying so hard not to cry, too, but at the sight of you weeping, she grows weaker. You can see her eyes glistening as she bites her lip, her chin lightly stroking your lips as she does so. You can't help but plant a gentle, encouraging kiss upon the scar that rests there. You want to kiss all of her scars until she's convinced that they've been cleansed of her body. Even then, you will trace them with deft fingers or soft lips; you want to remind her of all the strength she embodies, of what she means to you, because you know your words have never done, and will never do the justice. What she is, what she represents, transcends any form of communication.

"Then let me protect _you_, Lara," you whisper gently. Lara looks hesitant, but then she nods.

And so you do what you've been wanting to do for three weeks; you kiss her.

Lara lets you take control, acquiescing to your request. She parts her mouth for you, giving you the lead as you slip your tongue into her warm mouth. Your tongue dances the tango with hers, pushing and pulling, dipping and rising to the beat of your hearts. You allow yourself the faintest of smirks because for once, _you're_ the one with more experience. You put it in the back of your mind to tease her about it later, when all of the pain and sorrow has simmered down. Lara goes along to your every move, relaxing into your touch as you deepen the kiss.

"I love you, Lara," you breathe into her mouth between a gentle kiss. You look up to see Lara's eyes closed. Tears are dripping down her cheeks and you quickly lean up to kiss them away.

You feel shaky and nervous all of the sudden, and you don't know why until you hear her whimper that she loves you too. You've had dozens of flings and a couple of semi-decent relationships, but you've never been in love before. Not up until now. You're so in love now, and no matter how hard you try to tear yourself away from her, she's all you can feel. She's a part of you that no one can replace. She's your soul mate, but she's also your best friend.

She's everything to you, and you won't ever let her go.

You kiss Lara again because you're just so addicted to the way she tastes in your mouth, or how her lips meld so perfectly to yours. Maybe it's also in part to the sounds she makes, those goose bump-inducing gasps, or the vulnerability she shows you and no one else. Your bodies aren't the same size, but you fit together like the last pieces to a puzzle. It's perfect symmetry and you love every inch of it. You kiss her deeper at this realization, feeling free for the first time in forever.

Lara pulls you closer, her brows furrowed tightly as she refuses anymore tears to fall from her puffy eyes. She makes this strangled noise from the back of her throat as you break your kisses for soft pecks instead. You slowly duck your head past her jaw and into the supple skin of her neck. You nuzzle those faint bruises, pecking a few of the lighter ones with soft kisses. Lara lets loose another strained cry, but you hear need and love in the sound that's emitted from her lips. Her arm winds you closer into her, as if to swallow you up in her grasp.

"Oh Sam," Lara cries out, her nose smashing into your hair as she draws a shuddering breath.

Her voice sends a jolt of electricity to your core. You close your eyes and block out Himiko and Mathias. You focus on Lara as your one of your hands detaches from the back of her scalp to run down the front of her chest. You flatten your shaking palm against her collarbones. Your thumbs trace the bruises and scars tentatively, reassuring her and yourself that you're safe now. Your kisses move up her neck as you softly lap over her pulse point before sucking down. Lara moans a low and long moan; it's a moan that sets the butterflies in your stomach loose like its the first time they've seen the sky. You resist the urge to bite down upon her neck to show her how much it affects you. _God_, you think as you continue to shower her with kisses and affection,_ if she sounds like that now…_

You can't finish your thought, however, as there's the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You're about to yell at the person for interrupting, but the minute you make eye contact with the man at the door, you very nearly jump off the bed like a startled cat. Lara is still blissfully unaware and lets out a whimper at the loss of contact as you quickly pull away from her. You half fall, half stumble into the chair beside her with fear and embarrassment for getting caught. Lara opens her eyes and goes to glare at you, but she soon follows your nervous stare. When she sees the man at the door, dressed in a casual business suit and tie, wearing a frown upon his tired face, she lets out an inaudible gasp. You subtly try to wipe your lips as you swallow nervously, avoiding his gaze. An awkward silence fills over the room before he clears his throat.

"Samantha." When he speaks, you feel your teeth grind in frustration at his voice. You have to fight the urge to throw back a snappy retort, but you compose yourself for Lara.

"_Father_," you say back in a low voice. He raises a brow. You suppress a smirk at his facial expression, because you know that you've only ever called him 'father' when you're upset, and man, are you _upset_. This is the man that left you three weeks ago when Lara was fucking _dying_.

"Ms Croft," he says to your best friend in taught voice, curtly nodding his head. "Good to see that you're awake. We were all very worried about you."

_Bullshit_, you snort.

Your father doesn't glance at you. Lara clears her throat and takes a deep breath. God, she looks so terrified staring at him as she nods, unable to say anything. He _did_ just catch her making out with his daughter. If you were in her place you'd feel equally as scared. It hits you that you won't ever feel that way and it saddens you. You want to reach across for her hand to comfort her, but you know better than to worsen the current situation with more physical affection. You take to folding your hands in your lap and instead lean back in your chair, biting your lip in annoyance.

"Why are you here?" It comes out a bit snippy, but you don't care. He left you. Your father stiffens at your tone and you bite back the urge to click your tongue in disgust. Adjusting his tie, he loosens his shoulders and takes a small breath.

"Lara isn't clear to fly with her injuries, so we've allotted the both of you the vacation home here in Osaka for your use," he explains in a gentle tone, "you know, for a more comfortable and quick recovery."

Your heart stops beating. He did… _what_? You look to Lara to see that she's just as shocked as you are.

"If this is a practical joke, it's far from appropriate or funny," you growl, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. Your father shakes his head as he replies, "no, it's not a joke. Your mother and I want to give you both the time to recover. We… we talked to Jonah and Josilin about the events of the island." He's not looking at you as he says it, but you can tell that he's being serious.

Beside you, Lara stiffens. You will yourself to keep it together for both your sakes.

"My wife and I appreciate your bravery and courage, Ms Croft," he says, looking up to face Lara with grim appreciation. His glance hovers over her bandages and you can feel Lara getting anxious.

"You saved our daughter, and for that, we owe you our lives," he says gently, nodding his head at her. You watch as he rubs the back of his head with his flattened palm. "Even if… if you are both… if you…, _you know_." He can't seem to finish the statement as he lowers his gaze awkwardly.

"She's still my little girl," he whispers under his breath as he looks to you. His bottom lip trembles as he drops the 'tough father' facade for his vulnerable reality. His eyes are a gentle carnelian as they glimmer with unshed tears. You feel your heart constrict at the pleading gaze.

"I'm sorry Samantha, for leaving you," he says in a strangled voice, "it just came as a shock to your mother and I. We still love you, my darling. We always will. If… _Lara_," he stumbles upon her name and you swear that you can hear your best friend's breath hitch, "if Lara is the one for you, then so be it. She's proven herself by bringing you back safely. That's enough for us."

Is this their way of giving their blessing? You glance over at Lara, who seems to be burning her eyes into the small dent in the wall behind your father's head. Nobody speaks for a moment. You don't know how to answer to his reply because you don't even know what your relationship status with Lara _is_. Are you girlfriends? Friends? You have kissed and exchanged your feelings, but neither of you have acknowledged where you stand now. You're drifting in limbo and you feel uneasy all of the sudden. You look back at Lara to see that her eyes haven't moved.

_Oh God_, you think with an ebbing fear, _does she regret it?_

"Dad," you croak, unable to look at Lara any longer. You face your father with a solemn expression as you feel a familiar rumbling in your gut. Her voice slithers up your spine in a hushed whisper. Coldness curls over your fingers and your heart begins the routine pounding in your eardrums. The inside of your chest burns and you fight off the nausea that follows. Your breath becomes short as anxiety approaches.

_No_, you tell yourself as you shove it back down, _not right now_.

"I … we need time to think about it," you manage to say softly.

Your father dips his head in respect as he agrees to your statement. He mumbles a quiet agreement before mentioning that he has to talk to your mother and their lawyer. He parts without another word, leaving the room bare again. It takes you some time to recuperate and push down the swirling feeling of anxiety again before you can face Lara again. This time, she's looking at her bandaged hands, a lost expression painted upon her face. You want to kiss her, but you hold back. You instead take a deep breath and lick your lips, catching the faintest taste of her upon your lips. You're distracted by the simple crackling of the sheets as Lara plays with them between her deft fingertips.

Curling and uncurling, just like your nerves.

"So…," it's Lara that says the strained word. She doesn't look at you, but you watch her face flush a deep red as she clears her throat, starting again.

"So, about… _us_." You can hear the fear and uncertainty in her voice as she finally cocks her head up to stare at you. You soften your gaze to give her as much support as you can.

"About us," you repeat her words in a gentle whisper. Without your control, your hand reaches for hers beside the bed. You keep your eyes on Lara as you thread your fingers together and tug lightly. Lara gasps and bites her lip, blushing harder. Man, you won't ever get tired of seeing that blush. You smile involuntarily as you watch her struggle to compose herself. She's so damned cute when she's nervous.

"I… we," Lara stumbles on her words, "we love each other." Your lips curl up into a small smile at the words, and Lara smiles back, obviously mousy and flustered beyond means.

"We do," you reaffirm, nodding your head. You feel like one of those pitiful counsellors that both of you are forced to talk with biweekly. Cringing, you try to be more supportive without sounding like you do it for a living. Lara looks at you, but her eyes suddenly grow dark, leaving a chill running through your veins. She hangs her head into her chest as she loosens her grip upon your hand. You frown, unsure of what just happened.

"I have to get back out there," Lara says quietly, "I… I'm not gonna be able to… you know. I… I… I-I'm not going back to England, Sam." You pause at her words, digesting them. Running the possibilities in your head, you're calculating again. You wait until you're confident enough with a decision before you clear our throat and straighten your back.

"Then neither am I," you conclude strongly, nodding your head. Lara jerks her head up, surprised at your adamant tone. You reach for her hand again and lean closer to her.

"Lara, I didn't stay at your bedside for four weeks just to let you out of my sight now," you tell her, your voice raw with sadness as you remember how broken Lara had been. You shake the memory away as you look back at her with a grim smile.

"You're alone in this anymore, Lara," you mumble encouragingly, "you're never alone."

"Sam, you know that what I need to do. It's dangerous out there and I can't guarantee your safety," Lara says, trying to pry you away from the notion of following her. You watch as she closes her eyes, a few tears leaking out. "I nearly lost you on Yamatai, Sam. If that happens again…"

"I nearly lost you too, Lara," you remind her. You squeeze her hand tightly as you stand from your seat. Lara follows you with her watchful, guarded eyes. You lay your body down next to hers again. She scoots a bit so that you don't lean off the edge this time. You rest your head next to hers and simply lose yourself in her warm gaze. She's so beautiful, so delicate, so strong, so… perfect, _despite_ her imperfections. Lara doesn't shift away from your glance, but instead inches closer.

"Sam," she whispers, her doubt being chipped away. You can feel her breath flickering upon your lips as she sighs deeply. You move slightly, close enough to graze her chin.

"We take it slow," you speak the words that she wants to ask you and the ones you desperately need to say. "We take this slow. You're still in no state to be up and moving around, let alone raiding more tombs. In the mean time, we figure this out. We have time, Lara. We have time, and I'm not wasting anymore of it without you by my side, okay?" Lara sniffles as she chokes on a breath. You breathe it in, trying to take away some of the toxicity from her tortured body.

"Okay," Lara says gently. You smile at her, a soft but welcoming grin.

"Okay," you repeat after her, nodding. Lara chuckles lightly as she dips her head. You don't allow her to complete the action though, as you place your free hand on her jaw. You tilt her face back up to yours and lean in. Reflexively, the both of you close your eyes.

The kiss is chaste and sweet, but it speaks the words you both can't voice. You smile into each other's lips as you lose yourselves in that simple connection. Lara pulls away from you first, blushing deeply as she chuckles. You kiss her nose and forehead before hastily pecking her mouth one more time. You can see her eyes beginning to grow hazy; you know that the medication has begun to weave its way through her system and she'll be a bit loopy soon. You curl a lock of her hair behind her ear and she giggles at you, her lips spread in a wide grin. You pull her body close to yours and smile into her hair as she nuzzles her face into your chest affectionately.

"I love you," she mumbles in a muffled voice. You smile at the words as you pat her hair.

"I love you too, darling," you say, planting a kiss in her hair.

You look outside to see your father staring in through the glass. His eyes are slightly glazed with tears as you both make eye contact. You know it can't be easy for him, but he nods regardless. You glance back down at Lara, now passed out in your arms; her body is curled around yours like a heliotrope vine. You sigh deeply as you stroke her hair and think of the decision ahead of you. Lara wants to find her parents. She helped save you, and you will help save her. If finding out the answer to their disappearance saves her, then so be it. You won't leave her side until the task is complete. You turn back to your father and give him a nod and he understands. You may not be a tomb raider like Lara, but you are _that_ tomb raider's girlfriend. You glance back down at Lara with a grim smile. If you're gonna do this, you're going to need a place to start. You'll start by recovering what you've both lost, and fixing all that has been broken, all the way down to the microscopic shards of your fragile minds and dismembered souls. It won't be easy, but it needs to be done.

Together, you will both find peace again.


	2. Recovery: Lara

**A/N: ****This chapter is rated M for MATURE because of the graphic violence and gore in the dream sequence at the start**. **If you don't want to read it, skip down to the part where the italics stop.** Most of the story will be rated T, but for certain parts there will be some mature content. I will always notify you guys ahead of time, don't worry. Thanks for all the favourites and follows on this one. Please, do not hesitate to leave me a review. I really like to hear what you guys think/your critiques. This is my first time writing in this style so it's difficult for me to tell if the writing is effective or not, haha. Hope you're all liking it thus far! :)

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**The Nishimura Vacation Home - Osaka, Japan**

_You're running, always running, but you don't ever know where you're going. Darkness engulfs you, surrounding you in the terror of your own insanity. You hear whispers rolling through the tender hairs of your ear canal. You're whipping your head side to side like a maniac, your hands clawing at your cheeks as you scream to block them out. It's no use; they're there but you can't discern what they're telling you. It's all jumbled nonsense, a dangerously explosive cacophony of sound that deafens you. To attempt at getting away, you run again, your leg muscles snapping at the tension. In the distance, you can see a figure, tall and broad shouldered, but you can't make out the face. It's staring at you, but the image is blurry and pale. It feels so familiar, and your heart clenches in your chest, blood vessels constricting and preventing oxygen from flowing to your brain. _

_You're so dizzy. So confused. So lost._

_Before you can call out to it, something suddenly grips the back of your spine, ripping it clean from your body. You stop moving and instead glue yourself to where you stand. All around you is black, and as you tear what you can of your head upwards, you see that the figure has disappeared out of your sight. You can't breathe because your lungs are on fire and your body is ripping itself apart. You fight the urge to combust, fall apart, and crumble into a heap. You hear someone screaming again and your skin has begun to burn. The sizzling of your flesh blocks out the whispers, but it doesn't mute the screams that aren't your own. You jerk your head upwards, feeling the ligaments that attach the base of your skull to your spine fall away into the blind abyss below you. You don't have time to react to the sickening motion, however. You cry out as a fiery pain lashes against your side, rendering your lower body numb. You peer through bloodied eyes to see a blinding light approach you. Your flesh incinerates as you draw nearer to it._

Lara_, a deep, rumbling voice whispers amongst the chaos, _I'm so sorry_._

_You hear the scream come louder now as the tormenting heat in your body reaches a new level. You grit what's left of your slowly decaying teeth and try to step closer to the sound but your feet are trapped. Something is pushing you backwards, but you can't see it. You can only see bright, white light. You try to close your eyes to prevent any damage, but you have no eyelids to block the sight. Everything that makes you, _you,_ is slowly burning away. It's only when you are reduced to a mash of bleeding flesh and quivering bones do you see the source of the piercing shriek._

Sam_._

_She's standing there, tied to a wooden mast in that white cloth robe. She's sobbing for you, screaming your name as you watch fire lick at her feet. She's so far away. You open what's left of your disemboweled mouth to cry out to her, but only blood spills from your lips. You make a strangled noise as you try to reach for her, but you have nothing left to give. The fire is spreading around Sam now, and you can't get to her. You want to drop to your knees, but you can't even do that. Everything hurts, but now, as you watch her die, you realize that pain is an understatement._

Lara_, she calls out to you in a shrill cry coated in agony, _Lara, help me!

Sam_, you try to shout but nothing comes out, _Sam just… just look at me, you'll be okay.

_You're a terrible liar._

_All of the sudden, a figure crawls up from behind Sam's burning body. You recognize that semi-dead cracked skin anywhere. Your body temperature shifts from scalding to icy as you watch the shattered porcelain skin of her frame creak and bend. Her body curls over and she cackles hysterically, not too dissimilar to that of the Wicked Witch of the West. Only this time, a bucket of water won't cause her to melt away. She smiles unscrupulously at you, baring her blackened teeth, some of which have cut through her lips like shards of ashen glass. Ebony liquid drips down her chin as she straightens her crooked spine, breaking more of her body in the process. The sight is disturbing and chilling as you hear her bones crack. Dark wisps of energy flow from every crevice of her pale skin as you watch the corner of her blood-red lips tweak upwards in a creepy smile. Your heart slams against your ribs, now bare as your chest has shed its layer of skin. Her long, slitted tongue slithers demonically in and out of her parted jaw as she sends you a deathly glare._

Himiko_._

Sam_, she whispers, turning towards your girlfriend with a knowing grin, _give it to me, Sam_._

_Sam shakes her head at her before she looks at you with sorrow and remorse. The look in her eyes makes your heart stop beating as she gives you the most fleeting of smiles. The world stops spinning, your flesh stops burning, everything just… stops. Her eyes are so warm and gentle, despite the obvious agony she's in. They aim to reassure you and calm you and damn you if it doesn't work. It's as if for a moment, you're going to watch her climb down from the mast and stride over to you. It's as if she's about to take your face in your hands and put you back together with love and tender care. She smiles again and nods at you wordlessly. You've seen smiles like those before. You saw it in Alex as he'd laid trapped beneath that pipe. He had flashed you that same knowing grin as he pointed his gun at that explosive tank and left you to run. He loved you so much and you let him die alone on that ship. You see Sam's face, fearful but tranquil in the same, and you feel something stab you in the gut._

_Sam loves you._

_Before Sam can say anything, Himiko hisses like the snake she is, turning back to your girlfriend. Sam screams as you watch Himiko jerk her hand into your girlfriend's chest violently. Sam writhes against her bonds in torment as crimson blood oozes from the puncture. The demigod's hand is still lodged deep inside your girlfriend's chest as Himiko laughs, a disturbing high pitched shrill. She unforgivingly clenches her fist around Sam's heart, _literally_ squeezing the life out of her. Sam lets loose another agonizing howl as Himiko's skin begins to glow bright blue. Her once hollowed eyes now repair themselves, leaving opaque discs staring at you with a cold, ghastly expression. Your veins split and blood gushes over your flesh. Himiko turns to Sam, drawing whatever remains from her vulnerable soul. You scream at her, pleading for her to let Sam go, to take your instead, but Himiko just grins sinisterly at you; she remains silent and staring._

_In one fierce tug, she rips Sam's heart out and the world turns white. You scream for her, but Sam is gone._

_Sam is _gone_._

Lara_, you hear that faint whisper in the back of your mind, _I'm so sorry_._

"Lara!"

You jolt upwards, your head slamming into something solid as you do so. Your throat feels raw and you know that you've been screaming. Your eyes shift quickly around the room, searching for the danger. You still have the whispers lingering in the back of your mind as your eyes adjust to the bleak darkness. The hushed voices ebb off, like the echoes of your voice against the wall of a sheer cliffside. They resonate deep into your body, leaving you hollow and bare. You feel the urge to plunge a knife through your chest, just to be sure that your heart actually still beats, or rather, _exists_. Outside the comfort of those four walls, a thunderstorm booms and lightening cackles menacingly, sending shivering sparks of electricity down your spine. You want to reach for it, to make sure that it hadn't been ripped out. You twist and turn but you don't get far as you feel something wet upon your stomach.

"Sam!" You scream as you writhe in the sheets, "Sam, Sam! Oh God, Sam!"

The sheets are drowning you and you can't breathe. You're damp and confused and delirious and your thoughts are disorientated. You rip at the cotton layers that trap your frame, but they're entwined around your body too tightly. Your fingers claw at them as you maniacally try to rip your body out of their constraints. You can hear someone else calling out to you in the room faintly over the repetitions of Sam's name being shouted from your cracked lips.

"Lara!" Sam's voice finally rings clear as you whip your head downwards towards the source of the sound. Sam is rubbing her head and looking at you with frightened eyes as she watches you. You're still breathing heavily but you pause your thrashing as you stare at her in horror. Tears pull at your eyes as you see her crying in front of you. She's hiccuping as she stares at you with such trepidation and anxiousness. You follow her hand gripping her head and suddenly the pounding in your own skull makes sense. You're shaking so hard, you can barely see straight.

"Lara," Sam speaks again hoarsely as she gets up from the hardwood floor. You watch her in muted silence, unable to say anything. You watch her lips move as she says, "Lara, it's a nightmare. You were screaming and I tried to wake you up, but… but you were in too deep."

Her breath quivers and she hangs her head, sobbing. You tilt your body to reach for her, but not without letting out a sharp cry as pain strikes through your torso. You wrap your hands around your stomach reflexively and your arms immediately get drenched in a sticky liquid. Sam looks at you and her eyes widen. You look down to see blood staining those pearl sheets. Your hands shake as you look back up at Sam with a worried expression.

"Sam," you mewl pathetically, crying as pain rips through you again.

Your name breaks her trance. Sam jerks her head up and she quickly clambers onto the bed to reach for you. You suck in a sharp breath and tense immediately at her sudden movement. You snarl viciously at her as you try to curl into yourself. Your shoulders tense and your muscles tighten as you feel the adrenalin pump through your system. Your body believes that its back there, on Yamatai. Your stare grows cold and predatory in a way that forces Sam to stop just as quick as she began. She looks at you fearfully and dips her head in order to disarm your protective stance. Her fingers curl into the sheets, her shoulders tensing and then relaxing. You watch droplets of her tears drip down her cheeks and jaw as she pulls away from you slowly. The sight breaks you from your trance as you feel your body begin to fall apart.

"Lara, please," she begs you through hiccuping breaths, cocking her head back up at you, "please let me help you. Let me make the pain go away. Please… just let me in, sweetheart." Your body collapses against the mattress as you uncurl your bloodied forearms from your stomach. You look at the ceiling with a glossy expression.

"You can't," you choke out as you hear that whisper in your head again, "_no one _can."

"Lara," she says in quiet whimper. Tears burn at your eyes at her broken tone, but you push them down. You don't want to cry. You can't cry over this anymore. It's been a week and a half since you were released from the hospital, but you can't help but feel that you're deteriorating instead of recovering. You look to Sam and you know that she feels the same way. You both stay in silence until your nerves relax (as much as they can, anyways), and you grow limp.

"Okay," you choke out finally, shifting your glance back to her. Sam gives you a pitiful look as she nods, once again crawling up the bed to reach you. You watch her with fear, but she takes it slow, careful not to startle you. Her arms are trembling, her muscles worn with your burdens. You half-expect to see them detailed with scars from your night terrors. Some nights, you swear you can see them there, painting her body in a grim reminder of your experiences.

"Sam," you whisper to her as she reaches for the sheets. She unwinds them slowly and delicately, as if unwrapping new china for your kitchen. Her slender fingers pull away the damp sheets to reveal your stained tank top. The cotton briefs you have on are slightly damp around the waistband from sweat and some blood. Your thighs stick together and freeze once exposed to the cool night air. Sam sucks in a deep breath before she closes her eyes. You watch her shudder.

"Sam," you say again, this time in a stronger voice than before, but Sam shakes her head as she sighs and sits down on your thighs lightly. Her weight shifts to her shins as they rest on the mattress. She's so tender and slow with you; her nimble fingers deftly push that damp tank top up to the underside of your breasts in order to expose your torso. She doesn't look at them, and as much as you expect her to sneak a glance, Sam is as unpredictable as she's always been. Respectful, non-ogling Sam is someone you never in a million years thought you'd see. But as you look at her now, you wonder who she really is.

Neither of you know who either of you are.

"It looks like you may have broken the stitch," Sam says softly as she pries away the sticky bandage from your middle. When the wound becomes clear, both of you gasp. Yours is from pain and shock and hers is from sadness and tragedy. The puncture is indeed re-torn, but it's not as bad as you feel it to be. You let your head thud against the pillow as Sam's fingers dance upon the skin around the hole. Her touch feels cool in comparison to your skin and it grounds you.

"I'll call the nurse to come by tomorrow to re-stitch it," she whispers as she gets off your thighs and heads towards the dresser. You stare at her back as it hunches while she searches for the first aid kit in the dark. Your eyes ghost over her small body, now thinned from lack of sleep and poor nutrition. You've both been haunted by your demons and nightmares. Sam pauses at the dresser, her shoulders trembling lightly. You turn your head away from the sight, ashamed of yourself for being so selfish.

You can hear her crying and it breaks your heart.

You want to comfort her, to tell her that she's going to be okay, but your voice is caught. The cold breeze from the open window settles in your bones. You bite your lip and will the panic to relieve itself from your body, just for a moment. You can't take the damage it has been causing for both of you, and for your relationship. The tips of your fingers grow numb and your mouth gets dry as you feel your heart start to beat faster. _Breathe Lara_, you tell your overwhelmed and vastly dishevelled mind, _breathe and it will go away; it will be okay_.

That's a lie, but you convince yourself to believe it.

"I've got to clean it," Sam says in a low voice as she returns to you with a bottle of antiseptic and some bandages. You cringe as you see the bottle of clear liquid and the white bandages. Sam looks terrified, as she always does when she has to do this for you.

Each time, you tell her the same thing.

"Sam," you whisper through a routine cough, "you don't have to do this. Y-You don't have to keep carrying me the way you do. You're sinking just as fast. I'm bringing you down, Sam."

"_Stop_," she interrupts just as always, shooting you that familiar defensive glare. She sets the bottle and bandages down on the bed as she climbs back upon your thighs slightly.

"Stop trying to be a hero, Lara," she tells you through a cracked whimper, "stop trying to act like you can take this when it's _me_ who has to bring you out of those nightmares. You went through shit, Lara. We both did, but stop pretending like you don't need any help. You _can't_ do this alone."

"I did it on Yamatai." Yeah, you did, but how? Was it the fear of Sam being killed? If Sam were in that danger right now, would your body miraculously return to that Superman-state?

"Yamatai was different, Lara," Sam says back through gritted teeth. She's right but you don't want to admit it. Yamatai was bloodlust for you. Your body didn't tire until you saved her. You killed so many men and animals for her.

And you'd do it again. You'd burn down the entire continent for her.

"Sam," you warn in a strained voice, knowing exactly where your girlfriend is taking this. She doesn't stop as she leans her body down, her mouth hovering just millimetres above yours as she mutters, "you need to break free of that place, Lara. It's killing you from the inside out." Her voice is empathetic because she knows she's just as trapped as you are. Her words are hypocritical; you've seen her flashbacks and panic attacks, as much as she tries to hide them from you. You're both tormented by Yamatai. You stare up into her eyes with an empty look.

"I'm already dead," you say bluntly, your voice void of any emotion. Sam stiffens and you see the tears return to her eyes. You cock your head up, unable to control your mouth as it spews the words, "I was dead after I saved you, Sam. I never came back. This," you say as you sneak a glance down at your body, "this _isn't_ me, Sam. We both know that."

_Just like that isn't _you, _Sam_, you say to yourself as you glance at your girlfriend with wounded eyes.

"Lara," you feel her breath against your lips as she says your name so lovingly, so sweetly. Her tone upsets you because she's _not_ getting frustrated. You keep probing her, pushing her away even though you so desperately want her as close as you can get her to you. She still clings onto you no matter the way you treat her. If someone were to comment on your relationship, you wouldn't be surprise if they went to the extremes of calling it emotionally abusive.

_God_, you think painfully, _I'm hurting her and I can't stop doing it. Why can't I stop, dammit?_

"I'll bring you back if it kills me, Lara," she says strongly, her bottom lip trembling, "I won't let you torture yourself like this. I've kissed you back to life before, and I'll _keep_ kissing you until you're alive and well. I will kiss every damned shard of pain that festers within you. I will pluck each piece of shrapnel from your wounded soul as if I were preparing a bouquet to shove into Mathias' face, and when I do it, Lara, I'm gonna show him that _nothing_ can tear you apart."

"Because you're a Croft," she says with a small sorrowful smile playing at her lips, "and Crofts don't let things take them down like this. Crofts are fighters, warriors; they're knights in shining armour to their damsels in distress." Your breath hitches as Sam's fingers trace your jaw, her thumb carefully brushing over your bottom lip.

"Crofts are beautiful," she whispers, looking to your mouth, "Crofts are strong. Crofts are brave. Crofts go through hell and back to save their friends. Crofts don't give up, Lara." Sam's eyes meet yours again as her dark eyes fill your recovering body with a blissful warmth. You stay silent, simply letting her words wash over and comfort you.

"The world needs more Crofts," Sam mumbles quietly, shivering as one of your hands tentatively reaches up to cup her cheek in your quivering palm. She nuzzles your skin for a moment before she smiles at you again. You're transported back to your dream as you let out a choked cry. Sam doesn't notice it, as she's too busy getting lost in your gaze.

"The world needs you," she murmurs gently, "_I_ need you, Lara."

You allow the tears to break free from your barricades as Sam leans down and kisses you. Her lips move so gently against yours, her tongue lapping over yours in calming waves. She's an elixir that replenishes your energy, fills your heart with hope, and restores balance in your confused mind. She tastes like heaven and every time she kisses you, you swear you're transcending into the afterlife. It's so _peaceful_, a contrast from your conscious that is constantly plagued by nightmares and scarring memories. When her mouth parts and you softly slip your tongue into her mouth, you feel your PTSD and anxiety being packed up and shelved away, out of sight.

"You know I love you, Sam," you whisper against her lips, breaking the kiss slightly so that you can assure her that you're better now. You know just as well as she does that this process, this breaking and healing, will repeat tomorrow night, and the night after that. It's as if you have some never ending form of anterograde amnesia, as if all of this doesn't matter in the end because your nightmares will _always_ beat you down. You start from scratch each night. Before you know it, they'll catch up and become so large that they eventually push you to your grave. You think back to Sam's previous words.

You ask yourself, _how can a Croft win a fight that's in her own head?_

You think about it for a long time, but you can't find an answer.

"As I love you, Lara," Sam says softly, kissing your jaw and cheek. She draws you back as always, bringing you home from the storm inside your mind. Her thumbs brush away the tears from your face before kissing the trails they leave. You bite your lip as she sighs into your mouth. You can feel the fatigue in her breath, but before you can tell her to rest, she pulls back remorsefully. Her hands reach for the bottle of antiseptic and the cotton bandages.

"Lara," she says grimly and you know what needs to be done. You don't need to hear it, but she tells you anyways. "This is going to hurt, sweetheart."

"Just do it quickly," you snap fearfully. Sam doesn't let the sharp tone affect her and you know it's because she's so accustomed to this process. That kills you. No one should have to go through this. No one should have to watch the love of their life fall apart before them and to be completely helpless as they lose themselves to their memories. Your thoughts are broken at the sound of liquid meshing against a cotton wad. You wince before she even touches you, just as you always do. You have no idea why you do it; you _know_ what's coming.

Sam fights the urge to cry as you scream the minute the damp pad touches your skin. It's a guttural scream, and Sam has to put more pressure on your thighs with her body to prevent you from throwing her off. Your fingers claw through the bedsheets as she dips the cloth around the puncture before slightly entering the opened site. You howl in agony and sweat beats down your face with each soft stroke she makes. Your chest burns from screaming so much, but soon enough, it's over and you're left a shuddering, whimpering mess.

_So much for 'Crofts are strong'_, you scold yourself between huffed breaths.

"There," Sam says, trying to hide the sadness and remorse in her voice, "all better." She quickly puts the fresh bandages on before turning away, packing up the unused cotton pads and the bottle. She doesn't look at you. How _could_ she look at you after she made you scream like that? You wonder how you'd be able to deal with it if the situation were flipped. You already know Sam is stronger. You hang your head in shame at the thought.

Sam changes the sheets while you lie there, unmoving and lost in your own thoughts. Neither of you speak as she grabs the spare bedding, now always on hand because the nightmares are so frequent, from the corner of the room. You feel lucky that the Nishimuras are rich, because your water bill from constant washing must be incredibly high. You push the thought away and turn your gaze to Sam. Your head, too heavy to move, stays still but your eyes shift as you watch her perform the routine tasks. You look at her now longer and ragged black hair and her slender arms as they move around the room. Her skin is so pale in the light of the moon bathing in through the window.

Your heart flutters as she looks at you briefly. Your eyes meet and you feel yourself blush a deep shade of red, heat rising to your cheeks. She smiles slightly, pausing in her movements as the two of you just stare at each other like long lost lovers finally reunited. After awhile, she ducks her head shyly, as if whatever happened moments ago was just a figment of both your imaginations. Sam has always been a mystery to you, and you've always had a knack for puzzles. You've spent practically your whole like trying to figure her out, but now you wonder if there's any point. You catch another glance at her, trying to read her body language. She comes to your side with the new sheets, her eyes warm and gentle as she meets your gaze once more. _God_, you swoon as she lays the sheets over you, tucking you in like a child. She's so beautiful. You should tell her that more often.

Why don't you tell her that more often?

The question stumps you as Sam sighs tiredly, climbing back into bed with you. Tears claw at your irises again as you realize how shitty of a girlfriend you are. You constantly try to push her away while she remains stoic and strong at your side. You can't help but draw back to Yamatai. You at least got redemption by killing Mathias and torching Himiko. Sam, you realize with a pained, hitched breath, _Sam_ never got any of that. Sam never got closure. Sam never had the chance to save herself from the torture. She was taken, weaponless, defenceless; she was a toy to him. The both of you haven't talked about your individual experiences in detail and it suddenly hits you with a sickening punch to the gut that maybe Sam's memories are more horrifying than yours.

Sam's head, lightly resting on your shoulder, breaks you from your thoughts. You tilt your jaw downwards to see her wearily gazing down at your sheet-covered torso. Her hands are on your chest, one placed over your heart and the other on your collarbones. She subtly snuggles her body closer to yours and you feel the goose flesh spreading along her skin. She's always so tentative and gentle with you, as if you were to break at any given moment. She's perfect to you, but you're so selfish that you can't even be bothered to return the favour in the slightest bit.

_She should add terrible partners to her list of what makes a Croft_, you think bitterly.

"Lara." Sam's voice sounds like a squeak as she calls your name out. You nod and shift your body downwards on the bed. Sam moves her head so you don't have to work so much, and soon enough, you've got your arm protectively draped over her back and laced around her midsection while her head lays in the nape of your neck. Your fingers trace circle patterns on her side as her breath patters against your neck. She's shivering, but you know it's not from the cold.

"Whatever happens, Lara," she murmurs weakly into your skin, "please don't leave me."

The words cut deep and you fight the urge to cry. You've always known that she relies on you for things, but you've never fully come to understand that after Yamatai, you've become her lifeline as much as she's become yours. She needs you just as much as you need her, but you can't seem to find the strength to keep her afloat without drowning both of you. Save her from a possessed demigod and a cultist lunatic? No problem. Saving her from trauma and flashbacks?

Hell, you can't even save _yourself_ from that.

"I could hurt you," you breathe out as you realize that the real danger to Sam is the body lying next to her. Your chest tightens as you look to her. "I could wake up from a nightmare one day and be so delirious that I don't realize that it's you." Sam doesn't speak as she digests your words. You turn your head back up to face the ceiling. You hear the whispers again and you shiver. Sam tightens her body against yours out of fear, gulping nervously.

"Sam," you choke out as panic creeps up on you, "Sam… I-I could…"

"Don't finish that sentence," Sam cuts you off quickly, her voice edgy as she leans up on her shoulder. She looks at you with a fiery stare as she gently reaches for your face, tilting her jaw to face you with a fierce expression. Her eyes are obsidian as she stares into your vulnerable mind.

"You won't do that to me, Lara. You love me," she says firmly, but she doesn't see what goes on in your mind. She doesn't see how many times you've lost her in your nightmares. She doesn't know how _little_ sanity you have left. You take your hand and place it over hers in a soft touch, your eyes watering as your breath hitches. She looks petrified as she glances into your desolate stare.

"Sam," you tell her sadly, "Crofts don't make promises they can't keep."


	3. Aching Bones and Wasted Years: Sam

**A/N: This chapter is rated M for MATURE for light references to previous rape/sexual abuse. It's not too graphic but if you have triggers towards rape/sexual abuse, please be warned. **The chapters following this will lighten up, don't worry. I know I said that this story would be rated T for the most part, but as I'm thinking of the plot, I may have to change the rating to M. I'm still on the fence, but I'd appreciate your guys' input! Let me know if it's too graphic for its current rating and I will change it. Hope you're all enjoying it so far, though. Leave me a review if you can of what you think! I love hearing what you guys have to say! Enjoy :)

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**The Nishimura Vacation Home - Osaka, Japan**

You glance over at Lara, finally asleep beside you. Your head is resting on her chest and your arms are laced around her midsection with a protective grip. You want to close your eyes and to will yourself to catch some much needed sleep as well, but you can't. Your body trembles as you reluctantly let go of Lara's body so you can turn over and look at the clock. You see the small numbers on the monitor and sigh in disappointment.

_5:57am_, it reads, mocking you as your body shivers.

You know you're not going to be getting asleep anytime soon, so you turn back to Lara. You spend a few minutes just studying her features. She still has several bruises and cuts on her chest, a few of them from when you had pounded your fists in them in an effort to wake her from the dead. Your eyes flicker to see that her right shoulder and arm are still bandaged lightly, but luckily aren't bleeding. You glance back down at her middle, covered by the duvet, and take a deep breath. Your heart beats faster as you remember how she had lashed out at you, sending you sprawling to the floor. You remember your conversation with her before she had fallen asleep. As much as you want to hide away from Lara's statement, you know there is some truth in what she says.

She _could_ kill you.

But if she leaves you, she _will_ kill you. You face death either way, it's just that the probability is lower for the former. You sit upright in the bed, resting your back against the cool frame behind you. Your fingers gently stroke Lara's hair as you run the calculations in your minds; you think about the odds of Lara killing you versus the odds of dying from being without her. You decide to set your chances with living with your sleep deprived girlfriend haunted by her memories, figuring it's better than dying alone from a broken heart and shattered mind. You suddenly realize how suicide bombers must feel; your life is tied to a ticking time bomb. The only exception is you don't know _when_ Lara will explode and break the both of you. The thought is terrifying, but your statement holds some truth. As much as you want to fight it, your reality now seems so damned bleak. You look down at Lara, her eyes closed loosely and her mouth parted to allow tiny snores to pass to and fro. You're jealous for a moment, that she's able to sleep and you're not.

But then you ask yourself,_ isn't it better when I'm awake?_

You're not exactly sure what keeps you up at night. It could be the fact that you don't want to go to sleep and wake up without her. You know that Lara sleepwalks sometimes. You once found her standing at the front door, just staring at it with a rigid, tense posture. You had thought someone had broken in and you damn near smashed her skull in with a baseball bat. Lara doesn't remember. Of course she wouldn't, she was asleep. She had been unresponsive to your calls as you shouted at her to wake up; she acted as though she was hypnotized. You had to nearly shove her body into the bed and _then_ she startled awake, gripping your shoulders tightly and screaming at you to let her go.

It affects you, and you know that. As much as you somehow manage to carefully hide your suffering from Lara, you know that you cannot hide it from yourself. You want to lay some of your burdens on her, but each time you go to speak about it, you see Lara's face, her eyes sketched out with trauma, and you know that you cannot add to her pain. Besides, what could she do about your terrors and memories anyways? It's not like she can make your nightmares go away. If you can't do that for her, how could she come close to alleviating you of your own bleak despair?

Lara's stubbornness and inability to let you in is what frustrates you the most about her. You love her, and you know that nothing will ever stop you from that, but you just want to reach inside of her and scream at her to trust you. She doesn't want you to see the darkness brewing in her mind, but you know that you're a hypocrite because you feel _just_ as lost and tormented. You don't show her your vulnerability because you know that she needs a steadying source right now. She needs a beacon, something to guide her through her adversity. You're like a candle in a forest, but you're something, at least. You hang your head as you try to close your eyes even just for a second.

You regret it immediately.

You see Lara's dead body on the boat and in the hospital. You feel her skin, icy and deceased touching yours and you gasp. You hear yourself screaming at her to wake up before kissing her so fiercely that she comes back to fucking life. You see Himiko and Mathias. You feel his hands caressing your body, easing you into that retched dress while she stabs at your heart and lungs with her spirit. You jerk your eyes open, letting out a quiet huff. Your chest heaves as you fight off the memories that came with being captured by that maniacal cult leader. You pull your hand away from Lara's head and wrap your arms around your shoulders instead. You draw your knees up to your chest and you bow your head, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You remember how rough his hands had been as they had touched you. You choke back a sob as you feel his fingers, and the fingers of so many others, touching you in places you can't bring yourself to touch anymore. You let a few tears drip from your eyes at the memory as you shiver with fear.

You and Lara haven't been intimate yet, what with her injuries and, completely unbeknownst to her, your fear of reliving past trauma. But as you look down at her, a symbolic reminder of everything that happened on Yamatai, you don't know if you _can_ become intimate with her, at least for right now. You grit your teeth, ashamed that you can't even provide Lara with one of the many joys of having a partner. You always thought of yourself as a strong-headed person. You had basic self-defence training back in college (from Lara, admittedly) because you were so open about your sexuality. You always let the world see you in your bare bones, and you didn't care what others thought. But now, _now_ you can't even look at yourself naked in a mirror without breaking down. You see evidence of the events you endured under captivity but you can't bare to look at them for more than a moment. You want to cut off your hair and change your body so drastically that you can't see the work of Mathias and his handymen.

Lara doesn't know.

You don't ever know if you'll tell her. Your core aches, but not in an arousing way. It aches as if it is mourning for the loss of its innocence and security. You know you're not a fool. You've had plenty of sex with plenty of people, but all those times it was consensual. It was a choice you made and you never had regrets. This time, it feels like a gorilla is sitting on your back. The word runs through your mind several times, spinning around your anxiety with the grace of a headless ballerina. You can't voice it though, because as soon as you say it out loud, it will become real.

And when it becomes real, you _will_ break.

"Shit," you curse as you throw your head back against the headboard, out of your knees. It thuds lightly, but you feel no pain bare for the ache in your chest. You want to scream, to cry, to disappear into nothingness but you know that you have to be there for Lara. You have your moments where you want to be selfish, though. There are days when you watch Lara sit and stare at the window blankly, in which you want to tell her everything, to confess your darkest secrets. Maybe, it would be different if you were just friends. You can tell your best friend everything, but your girlfriend is a different story. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, you wish you were best friends again, just so you could tell her.

But… you're still best friends, right?

You don't even know anymore. You aren't doubting your relationship with her, you're just doubting… _her_. You scoff, _I really am the best girlfriend, because who _doesn't_ find trust issues attractive?_ You glance back down at Lara, who has now shifted slightly on her left side to face you. You slowly reach down and wrap your hand around hers, squeezing lightly. Lara grasps your hand back reflexively before mumbling something incoherent. You suck in a breath, bracing for another nightmare. You don't let go of her hand and instead you shift down the bed, closer to her.

"Sam," she mumbles between quiet breaths, "Sam."

_God_, you think painfully,_ she sounds so hurt_.

"I'm right here, sweetheart," you murmur into her ear, unsure if she can hear it or not. Lara mutters something incoherent again as she shifts, her grip on your hand growing tighter.

The tight clasp transports you back to the monastery. You see Nikolai's wicked grin as he had bound your hands to the pipes behind the prison wall. You remember him and his comrades laughing and speaking in Russian as they had approached you. You feel the scratch of his stubble against your jaw and you gasp. You cry out involuntarily, shaking your head as if that will ail you of the experience. You squeeze your legs together as you had done in that prison cell.

"Sam," you hear Lara's voice bring you back to the presence and you shudder. You somehow snap out of your flashback and turn to see her body curling further into your side. You wipe away your tears with the back of your free hand as you compose yourself for your girlfriend's sake. _Stay strong, Sam_, you tell yourself with a deep breath, _Lara needs you more_. You tentatively remove your hand from hers, to which she lets out a feeble whimper of protest. You hum again in her ear as you instead hook your arm carefully around her back, rolling her slightly onto you.

The weight of a body atop yours is an all too familiar feeling, and for a moment you consider pushing her off and just walking to the kitchen and pouring yourself a cup of tea to forget it all. You grit your teeth and push the memories down, knowing all to well from your assessments that they're going to come back with an unrelenting force. _Stop beating yourself with your own game, idiot_, you scold. You quieten your internal banter and focus your attention back on Lara, who has now curled her body around yours like a snake, pulling you closer towards her. She's somewhat taller (given you have to go on your toes to simply kiss her) and stockier built than you are, but as she lays in your arms you can't help but feel that she is so _small_. Your fingertips trace over some of her healed scars, your mind creating stories as to how she got them. Your touch causes Lara to shiver, gripping you tighter as she lets out another faint whimper.

"I'm here, Lara," you whisper absently, stroking her hair with your free hand.

Are you, though?

You stare back down at Lara's sleeping face and grimace. Each time you gaze at her scars, you wonder how she managed to stay strong during that month on that retched island. Your eyes shift over to her lips, quivering slightly as dreams send her reeling in her mind. You pull her body closer, trying to keep her as close to you as you can. You're the only family she has left, and you're not letting Lara lose that too, no matter how broken you are currently. You will fight for her, just as she had fought for you. It doesn't matter if it takes months or years, you won't _ever_ stop fighting for her.

You let your eyes close again, but sleep doesn't come.

/

Lara doesn't ask you about last night.

This is her typical routine. She gets up before you do (or so she thinks, you already know you're always awake before she is), she sits at the chair in the corner of the room and stares out the bedroom window for awhile, and then she goes to the kitchen for tea. Her morning is quiet and often doesn't involve talking because she's trying to avoid the vulnerability she'd shown the previous night. You don't ever question it, however, because you know that Lara's always dealt with serious situations differently than you do. She's the quiet, processing type that builds up tension and stress overtime until she combusts. You're the aggressive, in-your-face girl that isn't afraid to cuss someone out if need be.

You do the same thing every morning, too. You just watch her get up, you use the bathroom (all the while avoiding your reflecting staring back at you with emptied eyes), then do the bed before you meet her in the kitchen. Mornings aren't even considered awkward in your opinion. You don't know _what_ to call them. The both of you sit at the wooden table in your tank tops and briefs, actively ignoring the heavy silence that often befalls the room.

You begin to wonder if you'll ever wake up one morning and _not_ regret it.

Your fingers are tracing the cracks in the mahogany with slender strokes, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of last night. You can't seem to get Lara's petrified face out of your mind. The way she had looked at you, or how she had screamed, or the things she told you, they all haunt you so terribly. You just wish you could suck them out like poison. Your other hand holds a steaming cup of tea. You lift it to your lips and take a tentative sip, enjoying how the scalding liquid burns your tongue, before you just let it rest in your hand. You stare at the table and Lara stares at the wall or the window - it alternates. This morning is different though, because this morning Lara decides to break that silence.

"Your hand is shaking," her voice says, shattering the quiet atmosphere with those four words. You blink, almost unsure of whether she said anything to you. Lara's staring at you with an unreadable expression, though. You swallow thickly and look to your hand holding the tea to see that it is, in fact, shaking.

"I'm cold," you lie through your teeth, praying that she buys it. Lara looks torn for a moment before she reaches for her tea. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief, but you also feel a pang of hurt claw at your heart. Lara sets her cup down lightly but the sound is so loud in the silence.

"When were you going to tell me?" Lara asks you gently, getting your attention again. You lick your lips before hesitantly flashing her a feigned smile.

"Tell you what, sweetheart?" You ask her, hoping that she wants to know about something other than what clouds your mind twenty-four seven. Part of you wants her to know, but another part wants you to hide away from it until you forget about it altogether. You almost chuckle at that idea. _As if you're ever going to forget it, Sam_, you scold condescendingly. Lara's still staring at you with her unreadable gaze, unfazed by your aversion.

"Sam," she says again in a slightly sterner voice. She doesn't waver her serious stare and instead she leans in. You pause for a moment, just gazing at her concerned eyes before you sigh with fatigue. You set your own cup down and swallow nervously, wringing your hands together like you always do when you're anxious. You remember what Lara had once said about your tell-tale sign of worry when you had been playing strip poker (you're still astonished that she agreed to it) at Nine Bells after hours with a few friends.

_Sam_, she'd said with a smirk as she sat, fully clothed. Y_ou're incredible at math, but _terrible_ at bluffing_.

_Not that she was any better_, you think. She was just sweeter, more innocent. Guys pitied her as she flaunted her beautiful accent and distracted them with her beauty. You always played poker as a team. You calculated your odds of winning with your cards and she'd do the bluffing. You always wondered how'd that manage to work out for so long. Lara can't lie for shit, but for money, _that_ was a different story. She _did_ pay for her university all by herself, after all. _Maybe that's why she was so good_, you wonder, losing yourself in the fond memory. It brings half of a broken smile to your cracked lips as you reminisce nostalgically. What you'd give to go back to those days.

_Everything_, you think, _I'd give everything to be normal again_.

"Sam," Lara says again, snapping you out of your mind. You shake your head a little before sitting up straight as if she were your scrutinizing English professor when you handed in a late assignment. You look at her and clear your throat.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

Lara sighs in exasperation, hanging her head slightly as she realizes that you weren't paying attention to what she had said. You feel guilty instantaneously as you bite your lip with an apologetic glance. Lara says nothing, her eyes growing cloudier with concern. She goes to say something, but suddenly a cough wracks through her frame. She recovers quickly and growls, wincing as her hand covers her side. You tense, prepared to leap to her aid, but she straightens her back quickly, trying to hide the pain from her eyes. _Fuck you Mathias_, you think bitterly, _fuck you_.

"I asked you," she says hoarsely as she clenches one of her fists to divert the direction of her pain, "I asked you, when were you going to tell me that you aren't sleeping?"

You almost let out a breath of relief.

You don't answer her question for a moment. You simply look at her and observe the way she stares at you. She's worried about you, but that's Lara. She's always looked out for you, whether it be from boys breaking your heart or nearly failing a class. She's always there for you. Your mind drifts to when she brought you Chinese food at two in the morning and helped you with a paper due the next day. She didn't scold you for putting it off, she simply offered her help without judgement. You remember how you'd fallen asleep just as she'd gone out to grab coffee, and how she had put a blanket around your shoulders and edited your paper for you when she returned. If it weren't for her, you probably never would have graduated from university.

"Sam," Lara says again, this time more worried than before. You snap your eyes up. _God, you're so out of it you can't even concentrate on your concerned girlfriend_, you hiss at yourself.

"I'm fine," you say, but Lara gives you this look that tells you that you better change your answer quickly or she will find other ways of getting it out. You sigh and hang your head.

"Since we were rescued," you say in a timid voice, "I've just… it's just scary to fall asleep because I go back there. You know what I mean." Lara doesn't reply right away as she processes your explanation. You tip your head up slightly, trying to gauge her reaction. She looks… hurt?

"Oh Sam," she breathes out, her eyes casting a warm, supportive gaze upon your own citrine orbs. You lose yourself in those hazel pools, unable to form a coherent sentence. Lara gets up stiffly, stifling a groan as she walks over to you with a poorly masked limp. You realize that she hasn't taken her painkillers yet. You don't say anything as she sits down next to you, placing her hands on the table. Her eyes stare deeply into your soul as you feel her fingers brush over yours.

"Is there anything I can do to help, love?" Lara asks so tenderly it breaks your heart. You look at her and see a flash of her innocence returned. It gives you relief but it also deepens the void in your healing process. Lara takes your hand in hers as she gives it a supportive squeeze.

"Sam," she says again, "you know I love you. I… I just don't want to see you hurt again." She avoids your gaze as she hangs her head. You stay silent for a few more moments before she nods her head back up slowly. You squeeze her hand back as she peers at you with saddened curiosity. She's only a year younger than you are, but she seems like a child right now.

"Lara," you choke out, but don't move your hand. Lara leans over slightly, her soft lips kissing your bare shoulder with the lightest of pecks. She winces as she hears your breath hitch from surprise. You're usually the more physically affectionate one, so this all comes to a bit of a shock. Not to mention that Lara has had little to no sexual experience that you know of, besides that one girl in college she'd kissed on the dance floor of some sleazy bar when she'd been plastered drunk. She woke up the next day completely embarrassed and ashamed, but when you think about the memory now, you realize that maybe she found it the slightest bit exhilarating.

You hear her chair scoot closer. Her hands leave the table and wrap themselves around your waist. She keeps her lips to your shoulder, continually kissing lightly. Her thumbs trace soft circles into the thin material of your camisole, and you swear you can feel her in more places than one. Your legs tingle and your throat vibrates as a quiet moan breaks from your mouth. You bite your lip and let out yet another strangled gasp as her kisses start moving up your neck. One of your hands reaches down to tightly grip her wrist out of reflex as she lightly sucks at your pulse point.

"Do you want me to stop?" Lara's voice is so low and growly, you nearly melt. You can only respond with a groan as you loosen your grip on her wrist, but still not letting go. Instead of moving it away, you rub your thumb over the fine hairs upon the back of her hand with soft strokes. Lara smiles into your skin, rewarding your silent acceptance with another warm kiss. You tilt your head back and stare at the ceiling with a blank gaze. The sensations Lara's giving you are confusing, even though you know that you should be enjoying this. You're not at all shy when it comes to sex.

But you're only partially enjoying it. The other part is dreading it.

"Lara," you whisper coarsely as you start losing sense of her and begin slipping back into your past. Instead of her gentle hands, you feel Nikolai's scratchy palms deftly slipping under your top to sensually caress your sensitive skin. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you feel fear, not arousal, pulse through you. Lara, unable to see your face, thinks your reaction is a positive one and thus continues her ministrations. Her breathing is ragged and lusted against the sensitive skin of your neck, and you can't help but hear the soft grunting of Alexei this time as he had pinned you to the damp wall of that awful cave. One of her hands presses against your bare abdomen, slowly drifting downwards while her teeth nip lightly at your nape. You hear his voice growling in your ear menacingly, outlining the plans he has for you.

You remember each and every one of them.

"Lara, stop!" You shout suddenly, breaking away from her. You stand quickly, knocking over the chair by accident in the process. The sound startles your girlfriend as she pulls back, fear and shock stretched out over her face as she looks at you. Your hands are shaking again and you can't stop hearing _them_ whispering, mocking, jeering you in the back of your mind. Lara goes to stand, but you take a step back defensively. Your girlfriend's left brow raises with alarm. She moves slower, just as you had done last night when she'd panicked. Your breathing is laboured and you feel your skin freeze.

"Sam, what's going on?" She asks you, her voice low and heavy with worry. You look at her gaze, so fiery with rage at the people who caused you to behave this way. You've never seen Lara this angry in your life and it scares you to think that maybe she _did_ enjoy killing all those men back on Yamatai. When she sees how scared you are, her gaze softens and she lifts her arm to reach out to you tentatively. You swallow thickly and shake your head, unable to answer her without falling apart at the seams. Lara pulls her hand back like she'd been burned and stumbles to her feet, wincing again. You want to snap out of your trance but you're still there, tied to those poles, and they're touching you.

"Lara, please just… I'm okay, alright?" You say shakily, repressing it again. You put your hands up disarmingly as Lara peers at you questioningly. You can tell that she's incredibly worried about you, but she's got her own shit to deal with right now; you cannot afford to add yours to that pile. You sift through your tired brain for an excuse before deciding on one that she'll probably believe.

"I just remembered that I needed to call the nurse to do your stitching," you say in a quick tone, pointing to her torso, which admittedly _had_ actually started to bleed. You cringe as you become slightly thankful that she provided some evidence for your lie. _For fuck's sake_, you think once you admit it to yourself, _what kind of girlfriend uses their partner's injuries as an excuse?_ You fight the urge to shake your head at yourself and instead take to biting your lip. Lara is quiet for a few moments, but she soon relaxes her posture, grimacing as her hand goes back to her middle. You cringe with her, feeling guilt overcome you as you watch her sigh and nod slightly.

"Sorry," she mumbles dejectedly, leaning on the table a bit. You snap yourself out of your frozen state and walk over quickly, reaching for her hand. You're a bit hesitant at first to touch her, but Lara doesn't notice as her face scrunches up in pain. You let your trembling fingers run circles around her bandaged shoulder, a technique that has always calmed her down since she was a child.

"I'm sorry I startled you, sweetie," you tell her calmly as you peck her temple. You catch a whiff of her shampoo and allow yourself to lose yourself in the wonderful scent. Lara mumbles something incoherent as she turns her head towards yours to nuzzle your cheek with her nose. Her lips softly kiss the sensitive skin before your ear and you take a sharp breath at the contact.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Lara asks, her voice quivering. She's scared for you and she has every right to feel that way._ Well, maybe if you'd been honest from the beginning…_, you ponder. No, you don't have the strength to deal with the repercussions of taking that path right now, especially since everything is all so fresh. Still, you consider telling her then and there, but before you can complete the ill-conceived action, Lara makes out a low hiss of agony. You remove yourself from her side so that you can step in front of her and look at the damage. She's clutching her side with a taught forearm, her brows creased in frustration. You part your mouth to say something, but she shakes her head, looking at you with a pleading gaze. She wants you to answer your question.

"Of course," you whisper half-heartedly, your hand slowly reaching up to cup her jaw. Lara bites her lip before she leans forward, her forehead pressing against your chest. You sigh and wrap your arms around her slender body. Because she's propped up against the table, she's basically your height so you can kiss the top of her head. You keep your nose in her hair, trying to calm yourself in her familiar scent. You feel Lara's hands twitching; she's unsure of what to do.

"You can hold me, Lara," you tell her in a gentle hum. Lara still hesitates, but she slowly overcomes the impasse by wearily lifting her arms. Her hands are soft as they wrap around your midsection. She locks her hands around the small of your back, drawing a sharp breath. Her lips press a tender kiss to your collarbones as she sighs again. You try to close your eyes, but visions of those retched and foul men quickly flow through the darkness again, forcing them back open. You tremble and Lara grips you closer, kissing your shoulder again.

"Are you afraid of me?" Lara's voice is so small, you almost don't hear it. You stiffen and pull away from her to see that her head is still bowed. You cock your head to the side in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Lara?" You ask her, bewildered that she'd say such a thing to you. Lara doesn't speak, but you can see that she's trying everything to hold herself together. Her shoulders shake as she swallows thickly before glancing up, her gaze meeting your neck.

"A-Are you afraid of me?" She asks, her eyes finally lifting to meet yours. Her gaze is so broken you can barely breathe. Her eyes are glazed over with tears as she lifts her hands and inspects them. She looks disgusted and terrified as her gaze shifts over her quivering palms. You want to reach out and hold them in your own, but you can't move. You're still stumped on her question.

"Why on Earth would I be afraid of you, Lara?" You ask her incredulously, shaking your head at her. Lara's breath hitches as she stares at you, her expression cold and withering. It's bone-chilling and causes your heart to stop pounding against the wall of your chest.

"Because I killed people, Sam," she whispers hoarsely, looking back to her hands angrily. "I did what those men did to our friends to those soldiers and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it Sam! I'm so sick, oh God. Sam. I… I am a murderer. I killed them, Sam. I fucking _killed_ them!"

That's the sentence that breaks you. You jerk your hands forward and grab her palms. You tether your fingers with hers and grip her hands tightly to affirm that you in no way feel like that. Lara could never be a murderer. She's Lara. She's the girl that traps spiders and releases them out the front door instead of sucking them up the vacuum or stamping on them with a booted heel. She's got one of the kindest and most loving souls you know of, not to mention she's incredibly altruistic. You know that she did what she had to on that island to survive, nothing more.

"I am, aren't I?" Lara chastises herself bitterly when you don't answer her. She ducks her head away from you, pulling her hands away. You watch as she curls her hands under her armpits, causing her muscles to bunch up and tighten. You ignore the tint in your cheeks at their sight and focus on your girlfriend's self-deprecation. You shake your head at her gently, sighing deeply.

"Lara," you say her name in a slow drawl, "you are not a murderer. If you were, would you think that I'd live with you? Do you think that I'd hold you throughout your nightmares? Do you think that I'd kiss you or touch you if I thought you were like them?" You ask the hard questions, but you get the point across. Lara stiffens at the sternness in your tone, but she sniffles and shakes her head slowly. You sigh again, reaching back for her face. You brush your thumb over her jaw.

"Lara, I love you, no matter what happened on that island," you whisper, pecking her forehead softly to remind her of that. Lara whimpers when you say, "I am alive because of _you_."

Lara breaks at your words, bursting into tears as she lets her head once again collapse against your chest. You feel your lungs concave as you feel her hiccuping breaths against your skin. You pull her body flush to yours, cooing soothingly in her ear as she continues to cry. You feel tears creep up at the corners of your own eyes, but you force them away. This isn't about you, this is about Lara. You feel Lara's hands once again wrap around your hips, hugging you tightly. You loop your own arms over Lara's neck, swathing her in warmth and security. You serve as the rock in her mind with fleeting thoughts. You are the balance that keeps her steady as she sways.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Lara cries out, clutching a handful of your tank top in her bandaged palms. "I'm so sorry that I can't help you the way you help me. I'm sorry that I can't be more for you. I'm sorry that you carry my burdens when I can't carry yours. I'm so sorry, Sam. I'm sorry that I'm failing you as a friend and as your partner." You shut your eyes tightly when she seethes the words out. You hate the tone of her voice; it's one full of hatred and regret towards herself. Lara's always one to pin the blame on herself, and this situation is no different. You stroke her hair with your fingers as you repeatedly kiss her forehead with butterfly kisses.

"Sweetheart, stop," you say, though your voice trembles slightly, "you have nothing to apologize for, okay? You have nothing to apologize for. You have not failed me. We're not perfect, Lara. We may never be, but we will recover. It will take time, but it _will_ happen." You hope that your response is enough, because you feel weak now. The past few restless weeks have taken their toll on you, and as much as you want to fight to keep Lara sane, you don't even know if you can hold your own. Luckily, Lara doesn't push the subject as she just submits in a quiet sigh.

"Sam," Lara breathes, her head still buried in your neck. Your name sounds wounded upon her lips. You fight back tears and stroke her hair again, taking a deep breath as you go.

"Lara," you whisper back, reaching down to draw her head up. Your eyes meet and you feel something in your heart snap with the expression she gives you. Lara's hands find their home around your waist, their grip lighter than before.

"We're destroying ourselves, Sam," she croaks, more tears streaming down her face as she gives you a pleading glance. Your breath hitches at the sentence but you don't allow yourself to crumble. You shake your head and grasp Lara's face tighter in your hand. You stroke your thumbs from her chin down her jawline in a soothing line. Lara gasps softly as you tilt your face so that your foreheads are touching. Your lips are so close to touching, you can feel her breath.

"I won't let us," you murmur gazing into her hazel depths with fiery passion. Lara's hands involuntarily squeeze your hips as she tilts her face up only slightly. You can feel her throat bob upon your inner arm as she swallows nervously.

"Sam, those are big words," she whispers, her voice raspy and light. You watch as her eyes peer deep into your mind, trying to alleviate the sickness that encompasses the very essence of your being.

You don't hesitate this time as you plunge into a deep kiss, showing her just how determined you are to make good on your promise. Lara moans into your mouth as she wraps her arms around your back again, pulling you closer. You cry out as her tongue battles with yours; you're both fighting to keep each other here. Your thumbs stroke over her gaunt cheekbones, pulling her from her slouched position against the table to standing. You feel her wince as Lara rises to her full height and leans her head down, desperate to not break the kiss. You go to stop it, but you can't as Lara moves one hand up the small of your back to place between your shoulder blades to support you. You know that the move is meant to prevent you from falling over, but you can't help but get swept up in the metaphorical notion behind it.

No matter if she falls apart, she'll still hold you together.

"You're so beautiful," Lara whispers gently, breaking the kiss to allow the both of you air. You gulp in a deep breath as you blush a deep shade of red. You redact your arms slowly so that you can flatten your palms against her chest plate. You are so close to her and for once, you feel safe.

"I love you, Lara," you mumble as you lean up for another kiss. Lara's eyes close as your lips meet softly. You hear a sweet moan burst from Lara's lips as she pushes against you slightly, walking you backwards into the wall of the kitchen. Your back slides against the cool plaster as you pull Lara's head closer to you. You kiss her as if you are starving and she is your first taste of food. Lara's head cocks to the side, allowing you better access of her mouth.

"I love you, Samantha." Your legs turn to Jello when she uses your full name. At her proclamation, she gently rocks her hips into yours, causing fireworks to shoot down to your core. She kisses you harder, her hands rubbing circles into your back supportively. _Good God, when did Lara get this talented at making out_, you ask yourself as her tongue dances feverishly with yours. You gasp breathlessly into her lips as she deepens the kiss with a passionate press of her lips against yours. The hand at your waist skirts up your side again, but you feel uncomfortable too soon.

_No_, you cry out in your mind as the memories begin to return, _just fucking go away_!

"Sam," Lara says, sensing your discomfort as you tense up under her touch. She pulls her mouth from yours, breathing hard. You close your eyes, pushing away those men so that you can concentrate on Lara's tender voice calling out to you. Her hand lowers back to your waist, holding you tightly to her body. You shake your head and duck your head into her neck cowardly. You close your eyes and let out a breath against her skin.

"I'm sorry, Lara," you tell her in a soft mumble. Your voice is defeated and timid, but Lara isn't deterred from your decision to stop. You press a kiss into her neck apologetically, but Lara hums into your ear to not apologize for stopping. You can hear that worry return to her voice, so you quickly think of something to lighten the situation. _You're getting slow, Sammie. Come on, think quicker_, you scold yourself as you struggle to find an explanation behind your reaction.

"What ever happened to take things slow, huh Lara?" You say with a forced chuckle, quickly remembering your conversation from the hospital. Your voice is shaky and nervous, and you feel your palms get clammy. Fortunately for you, Lara buys it as quickly as you sell it and she relaxes in your arms with a soft laugh.

"Sorry," she mumbles sheepishly. You let out a content sigh of relief as you ward off the bad feelings. You let yourself go into your lie, desperately trying to convincing yourself that it's the _real_ reason why you stopped Lara from continuing on her path. You move your head to peck her lips softly to comfort the both of you.

"Don't," you say, feeling guilty that she dares apologize when she doesn't even know the blunt truth of it. Lara gazes at you with a gentle smile as she kisses the corner of your jaw lovingly.

Slowly, the both of you untangle from each other, saddened by the loss of warmth. Lara's postures is still slightly slouched, with one arm curled over her torso. You feel guilty again, but she flashes you a faint, toothy grin as she tells you, "I asked for it, Sam. You know that I'm not really good with limits." You reach forward and tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as you send her a gentle smile.

"Neither literally nor mathematically, sweetie," you say half-heartedly. You were expecting a chuckle from your girlfriend (because she really does suck at limits), but Lara's eyes flash as she hears the distance in your voice. You quickly shake your head at her and smile again with reassurance. You help her to the kitchen table and set her down before reaching for the phone. You glance at the small blood stains now pattering across her new top and sigh.

"I think we should wait until you're all stitched up before we do anything like… uh, _that_," you say hoarsely, suddenly getting nervous again. Lara looks down to her torso and grimaces before she gazes back up at you with a knowing, lopsided grin. Her smile is genuine, and it makes your heart soar so high that you don't feel that constant, ebbing pain in the back of your chest.

"It would suck if we had to call an ambulance during our first time," Lara says, blushing a deep red. You can't help but chuckle at her as she hides her head shyly. You sit down across from her and reach out, brushing her cheek with your thumb as you lean forward to peck her nose.

"I want to make love you to, Lara," you tell her, and she practically turns into a tomato. You laugh again at her timidness as you place a supportive hand on her bare thigh and say, "but I'd rather do you in one piece, babe, not seven." Lara's eyes widen as she playfully smacks at your arm.

"Sam!" She squeals prudishly, curling into herself. You chuckle again, shaking your head at her as she struggles to keep her blush from spreading to her neck and chest with no success.

"It'll be worth the wait, baby," you say gently, leaning forward for a chaste kiss upon her lips. Lara gasps as your fingertips walk down the insides of her bare thighs to trace over one of the bandages wrapped around her knee. Your fleeting touches make her squirm and she involuntarily lets out a strangled whimper. You smile at her reaction and hum out of approval into her mouth as you kiss her fiercely once more.

"I'll make sure of it," you growl seductively, causing Lara to shiver. You give her a wink and she hides her face in her hands out of embarrassment as she blushes again. You peck her nose again, laughing.

"I love you, _prude_," you say warmly, feeling your heart burst with your love for her. Lara sighs, removing her head from her hands as she shoots you a sheepish smirk.

"I love you too, _horndog_," she retaliates with her college nickname for you, her accent making it sound just as funny as it always did. You almost do a double take, but Lara knows she's won this one. You shoot her a playful scowl as you look to your phone on the wooden table. Lara is too busy staring at you like a lovesick puppy to notice you grimace at it.

"But we've got to patch you up first," you say with a knowing tone as you pull away. Lara groans in disappointment as you reach for the phone again, dialling the nurses number. You can see your girlfriend pouting in your peripheral vision as she slumps into her chair. You're surprised she doesn't have her arms crossed or brows furrowed in frustration.

"I think the nurse will be pleased to see you," you tell her with a playful but sarcastic tone. Lara grumbles something incoherent, waving her hand in the air in discontent. You laugh at the gesture. She smiles when she sees you react with happiness and continues to make her pouting face, efficiently cheering you up. You gaze at her and only one question is filtering through your mind as you lose yourself in her eyes; how come it took you so damned long to realize she's the one for you? You have to remind yourself that you're oblivious at times_, _and as always, completely unpredictable.

_Maybe_, you think as you look at Lara with warm eyes, _so is she_.


	4. Fever Dreams: Lara

**A/N: **This chapter is somewhat (way) longer, so I apologize for that. Also, sorry about the wait on this one. With finals coming up, life has been pretty hectic. A quick side note about this story - I know that Lara and Sam are the same height now; I had just seen fan art on Tumblr and assumed from the game (which I played last year, so my memory wasn't quite fresh), that Lara was taller than Sam. I apologize dearly for that mistake, but I'll be sure to correct it.

**IMPORTANT TO NOTE (PLEASE READ THIS):**

About the plot this story will be taking, I _haven't_ read the comics and it's been a REALLY long time since I played the older games (I know the reboot erases them but still), so I will just be creating my own story for Lara and Sam to follow. The same thing goes for the background on Lara's parents. I know that it said that they died on an expedition, but that she still accompanied them and stuff. I'm not sure when they died (at what age) but I just thought mine would be at something a little younger, so I guess this is kinda (slightly) an AU? Not sure. This story might go a little sideways to the original plot the writers had for Lara, I suppose.

Please leave me a review and let me know what you think, and thank you all so much for the follows and reviews posted thus far. They're as awesome as you are! A side note, if you want to really get a feel for the dream sequences in this chapter, listen to the Dark Knight Emotional Suite with Rainymood on at the same time. I don't know; I just always thought of Lara as the female Bruce Wayne with less of a sex drive and playboy attitude, haha. Maybe because Winston and Alfred are both cute old man butlers and Lara's parents died when she was young (think) and she's all innocent but guarded and yeah… anyways I'm rambling sorry! Enjoy! :)

* * *

**The Nishimura Vacation Home - Osaka, Japan**

You're sick of being injured.

You're currently sitting on the couch in the giant living room, looking out at the panoramic view of Osaka. You're hot and clammy, despite having been released from the hospital a little more than a week ago. You take your drugs on time, or at least you _think_ you do. You can't really remember what you do anymore. Your mind is so fuzzy and disjointed that you can't even seem to remember your own name at times. You peer at the vibrant city, blinking your eyes into a squint as the warm sunset falls into view, blinding you temporarily. You suddenly flashback to Yamatai, when you'd been hit with a flash bang grenade while trying to get to the radio tower.

"Dammit," you mutter under your breath as you feel your mouth go dry. You hate this feeling. You feel hopeless and insecure. You've always had issues with your confidence, but right now you're at an all time low. You can't sleep alone. You can't cook, or help, or lift anything. You're deadweight to Sam. Hell, you don't even know what you're going to do when you have to start bathing yourself. The nurse usually does it for you on her routine visits, but even she has hit her limit with you. You grumble as you shut your eyes, warding off the demons that stir within you.

You ache to get back out to the world, to discover the mysteries that you have yet to uncover. You have documents and artifacts from Yamatai to sort through, still. Being cooped up in the giant mansion that Sam's family owned was not something that you had on your to-do list. You let out a low, pained groan as you heave yourself off the couch with a wince. Your legs shake for a moment, but you brush it off quickly. Last night had been rough, as you had been plagued with yet another horrifying nightmare. Each time, it's the same thing. Each time, you fail to save Sam from her death. You can't help but wonder if your brain is subconsciously trying to tell you something about your future. What was it that Freud said again? The unconscious explains our underlying thoughts and fears? You scold yourself for not remembering. You loved your psychology class; it had been one of your better electives.

"Urgh," you growl as a pain interrupts your internal monologue, kicking violently in through your side; it causes you to grimace. You hunch over, leaning one hand upon the coffee table as you fight off waves of dizziness. Your stomach lurches, and for a moment, you feel like you're going to be ill.

"Babe, Dad just called to see how we were doing and if we needed anything," Sam's voice calls out from the bedroom as she walks into the living room. She stops talking the minute she sees you, her expression changing from laid-back to concerned in an instant. You stare at her blankly, the heat rising to your face quicker now.

"Lara," she says suddenly, "are you okay? You look kind of pale."

Scratch that, you _are_ going to be ill.

You cup your hand over your mouth as you feel the burning liquid rise in your throat. Sam's eyes widen as she runs to the kitchen and hastily grabs a pail containing the cleaning supplies. She dumps out its contents and makes it to you just in time as you reach for the bucket, refilling it with your own contents. Sam makes a gagging noise, which only further causes you to retch. Your side really aches now as your stomach lurches once more. Sam's hand rests upon your back, rubbing soothing circles as she holds you upright. After a few more gags, you feel as though your stomach is completely emptied. Sam gingerly takes the pail from you, her gaze drifting inside. You watch her eyes widen with shock as she turns her head back to you. You stare up at her, wobbling slightly.

"It's blood, Lara," she says with a sharp voice, her voice growing shrill with worry, "Lara, you're fucking puking _blood_!" You groan at her loud voice as you feel your knees buckle. Sam nearly drops the bucket before she puts it aside.

"Jesus, Lara," Sam scolds as she reaches for you, gripping you tightly in her arms. You don't realize that you're shaking until she rubs up and down your arms. You look at her with a grimace as you shake your head, shivering some more. You feel hot and cold and tingly and gross.

"Holy fuck, you're on fire, Lara," she says in shock, leading you back towards the bedroom. "How long have you been like this?" You shake your head and try to fight her off, but her grip is stronger than yours.

"I'm fine, Sam, let me be," you argue stubbornly, trying to get back to the living room. Your comeback is weak, though. Sam nudges you further back until you feel your back hit the bed. You let out a pained cry as your side burns again. Sam's eyes widen as she reaches down quickly, pulling your shirt up to your chest.

"Oh my God, Lara!" She exclaims as she looks to your stomach, wide eyed. You follow her gaze with a hooded glance as you see what she's so worried about. Ever since you had gotten the puncture restitched a few mornings ago, you'd noticed a few changes to your body and general well being. You'd become restless and everything would just ache. It was the kind of ache that often accompanied something like a cold or a flu. You look down the sodden bandage, now coated in greenish yellow pus that dribbles down your torso. You're struck by the sight as your mouth hinges in shock.

You can't be infected, you have antibiotics.

_Shit, Lara, you're an idiot_, you scold yourself as you remember that you didn't take your dosage for the past two days. You can't remember the reason why, but you should know better. You didn't just graduate with honours for you to forget that antibiotics require a full and proper course. It's a stupid mistake, a mistake that you wouldn't make even in inhibition, for God's sake. You scrunch your brows as you feel your fever taking over. You didn't take your dose; how could you forget to take your dose?! Sound is fuzzy now, and your tongue feels dry and heavy.

"Sam," you drawl out languidly, but it sounds more like a muffled groan. Sam's hand is on your forehead and she's stroking your cheek as she says something to you. Her words are coming out strung together. You can't hear her well enough to discern what she's saying; you can only see her mouth moving through your blurry vision.

"Sam," you cough out, feeling dizzy again. You can't move as bile rises up once more. You somehow manage to slap weakly at her arm to draw her attention. She's saying something louder now as she watches you break into a horrid cough. Your body shakes harder and you feel vision cut out on you faster. Everything is growing dark as you fidget and thrash upon the bed, the electrifying agony surging through your veins like liquid fire.

Before you know it, vomit curls up in the back of your mouth and you choke violently, unable to breathe as you can't puke it out. The acid trickles back down your throat, leaving a burning trail down your esophagus. You can hear Sam screaming as your body continually grows limp. You barely feel her shove you onto your side and reach into your mouth to scoop out the liquid. You can't even smell the acrid scent as your eyelids flutter open and shut.

"Lara," you hear Sam screaming to you in the distance, "Lara, holy shit just stay awake!"

"S-Sam," you gurgle, but you can't make anything intelligible. You're slipping away. Your hand flops flimsily as you try to reach for her. You can hear her saying something in what seems to be Japanese, but don't know what she's saying.

Your body soon grows cold and suddenly, you only see darkness.

/

_"And when did Cleopatra become a pharaoh, sweetheart?" Your mother asks you as she stirs some batter into a mixing bowl. You plop yourself down at the table after having exhausted yourself in your historical ramblings. You may be just six years old, but you have a passion for digging up things in the past. Your mother says you get it from your father._

_"Eighteen, mummy!" You say in exasperation, as if she were the fiftieth person to ask you this question today. You play with your fork as you wait for your mother to serve you a stack of pancakes. "_And_ she had to share her power with her brother, and he was only ten!"_

_"Just a few years older than you, darling," your mother laughs, coming over to tousle your hair. You giggle as she reaches with her warm arms, enveloping you in a giant hug. You feel your body press against hers and you smile with your famous lopsided, toothy grin._

_"Mummy," you say as she begins to pull away, "when's Daddy coming home?" Your mother freezes for a moment. She swallows thickly before she glances up behind your shoulders. _

_"Today, sweetheart," a deep voice rumbles from behind you. You recognize that voice anywhere. You whip around and see your father's deep hazel eyes, eyes so identical to yours, staring back at you. You scream out of joy and nearly catapult yourself off the table. Your father chuckles, a warm and resonant laugh as you sprint towards him in a rush._

_"Daddy!" You squeal with delight as you barrel into his legs. He gets down on his knees as he wraps his arms around your small shoulders, drawing you in for a bear hug. _

_"Lara," he greets you with a loving tone. You snuggle your face into his strong shoulder, hugging him tightly. You pull away so that he can rise again to look at your mother. They stare at each other for awhile before your mother steps forwards, eyes watering._

_"Richard," she whispers softly, her voice a bare tremor. Your father shoots her a timid smile as he clears his throat, nodding. Both of them are overcome with emotion at the sight of each other._

_Your father had been gone a long time._

_"Hi love," he grins the same grin you had just given your mother a few minutes ago. Your mother doesn't say anything for a moment before she looks down at your excited expression. Finally, a smile creeps up on her face as she looks back up at your father with a loving gaze. She mutters something under her breath before she, too, rushes forward to embrace him. You watch their interaction with a grin, bouncing happily on your toes as you squeeze your way between them._

_Your mother and father lean down and all three of you embrace in a giant hug. You feel safe between their arms. Their love blankets you in security and confidence. You close your eyes and smile harder as your father swoops down and lifts your small body into his arms, cradling you closer to him. You love the feel of his stubble against your cheek and the smell of his strong cologne. You watch as your mother wipes away a tear of joy before she smiles softly at you._

_"Daddy," you exclaim suddenly, placing your hand on his cheek, "did you know that Cleopatra started ruling when she was eighteen years old? That's like, twenty years older than me!" Your father chuckles, stroking your hair as he beams at you proudly._

_"I'm sure she was a fine ruler, but I don't think she was _that_ much older than you are, sweet pea," he says, throwing you a wink as you realize you'd counted wrong. You hold up your hand and try to count again on your fingers before turning to look up at him with confusion._

_"Dad, how old are _you_?" You ask curiously. Your father smiles as he leans forward and pecks your cheek gently. You groan as you wipe your cheek. You hate kisses._

_"Daddy!" You whine as he laughs again. You poke his shoulder with a prod as you realize that he hasn't answered your question yet. He gives you a playful questioning glance as you scowl at him. Your mother's hand comes to rest on your back as you turn to face her._

_"I'm old enough," he says gently, giving you another kiss. Your mother huffs at that comment, but you don't make much of her subtle disagreement. You forget it instantly as you remember the books you got yesterday when Roth had visited you._

_"Daddy, come see the new books Uncle Roth gave me!" Your father smiles and nods, setting you down so that you can grab his hand and lead him towards your bedroom. _

_Soon, the day comes to an end and you're getting ready for bed. Your father and mother follow you into your room after you've brushed your teeth and gotten into your pyjamas. Your mother pulls the blanket up over your chest before pecking your forehead. Your father sits on the other side of your bed, smiling at you with a gentle gaze. You can't help but grin back, clutching the tiny stuffed bunny he had gotten you for your last birthday close to your chest._

_"Sweetheart," your father says softly, "your mother and I love you very much, you know that right?" You nod and your mother dips her head. She looks almost… sad? You peer at her questioningly as your father clears his throat softly._

_"Lara," he says, getting your attention quickly, "your mother and I have to leave for a few days, but we'll be back before you know it. Winston will be with you while we're away." You raise your brows. Your father was the one who left for long periods of time, but your mother was going as well? You look to her, but she avoids your gaze. You swallow, biting back tears._

_"But Daddy," you tell him with a pleading gaze, "you only _just_ got here. I thought… I thought that we were going to go the museum together and then go the theatre to watch The Prince of Egypt! You promised, Daddy!" Your father bows his head, obviously distressed at your ill content mood. Your mother's hand reaches out to you, finally acknowledging your presence._

_"Darling heart, your father and I won't be gone for too long, okay?" She says with a gentle smile, tilting her head as she comes up with a compromise. "We'll go see the museum and the movie the minute we get back, how's that sound?" You don't waver your stare and instead cross your arms over your chest stubbornly. Your mother sighs as she offers you a meek smile._

_"We can also stop by the ice cream shop afterwords," she says, and you think about it. You really do like ice cream. You don't want to give in quickly but you can't help it, not when your mother looks at you like that._

_"Fine," you huff, extending your hand to both your parents, "but you have to pinky promise." Your father and mother both smile laxly and intertwine their pinky fingers around yours._

_"Pinky promise."_

/

You can hear voices talking around you, but you don't really know what anyone is saying. Your mind is fuzzy and your body feels as though it had been run over by a train. You try to move your head or any of your other limbs, but you can't. You can only grunt out a frustrated breath as you hear more dissembled sentences and words around you. You search deep within you for some kind of strength and find it, allowing yourself to open your eyes half way.

You're still in Sam's family's home, in the bedroom. You can hear and blearily see Sam in the corner of the room talking with a woman that looks like your nurse. They're speaking Japanese, and while you're fluent in the language, you can't seem to understand what they're saying. Sam's voice sounds so lost and downtrodden, and you're almost certain that she's crying. You mumble something, but the sound can't make its way out of your mouth. Everything is so stuffy.

Everything in your body aches and you feel like you're swimming in lava. You gurgle as you try to call out to either of them, but you can't make more of an effort than that at getting their attention. Sam's voice grows higher in pitch as she continues to cry louder. What's going on? Why is she crying? Can't she see that you're awake? Doesn't she know that you're okay?

_Are_ you okay?

You don't even know. You look over to the other side of the room, near the window. Sunlight pours in through the gaping glass, bathing you in more warmth that you don't want or need. You grumble out a stifled groan as you close your eyes and then reopen them to see two figures standing in the light, staring back at you. Your eyes widen a slight inch as you recognize the gentle and loving gazes of your parents staring back at you. A small smile breaks your lips.

They're here. They kept their promise.

"Lara!" You hear Sam call out to you, but you can't look at her, not when your parents are right there. They look at you with a small nod, and your father's arm winds around your mother's waist. His eyes are shimmering proudly as he nods down at you with his famous grin. You somehow manage to crack half a smile at the sight of them.

"Lara," Sam cries, her voice closer now. You take a deep breath as you turn your head to the side to see her looking back at you with a scared look plastered to her face.

"S-Sam it's okay," you cough out, smiling again, "they're here. They kept their promise." Sam looks confused as she follows your gaze at the window. Can't she see them? _God_, you think as you stare at your mother's beautiful carnelian eyes and soft pale skin, _I almost forgot how beautiful she is_.

"Lara, what are you talking about, no one else is here!" Sam sounds so concerned. You feel something wet fall upon the nape of your neck as she grips your damp top in her fingers. Her nails dig into the material, nearly clawing it to pieces.

"Lara," Sam's whispering now. Why is she so far away? You turn your head back to your mother and father. Your parents give you another nod, but their smiles have disappeared now, replaced by guilty and remorseful expressions. You watch them get absorbed into the light and feel your heart clench with their loss.

"N-No," you cry out, coughing again, "n-no, why?!" You start to regain feeling in your body as you begin to shake your head violently, repeating the denial. You shake your arms, trying to break free of Sam holding you down.

"Lara, stay still, just hang on," Sam is sobbing, but you don't understand why. She didn't lose her parents. She didn't have to grow up alone like you did. You shake your head again in frustration, your cries growing higher in pitch.

You feel something sharp prick your arm, and just like that, it's back to black.

/

_"You're going to be strong for Mummy and Daddy, right?" You mother says as she drops her suitcase at the front door. You can feel fear and regret coming off of her in waves, but you choose to ignore it. You nod and bow your head, absently kicking your foot at her suitcase._

_"Do you really have to go, Mummy? Why can't I go like last time?" You ask softly, trying to keep the pain out of your voice. You don't want them to go just yet. Your mother kneels down, reaching for your hand tentatively._

_"You have to get ready to go to school soon, Lara. Don't worry, your father and I will be back before you know it, Lara," she says, her voice soothing and gentle. Her hand gently rubs up and down your shoulders in support as she leans forward to peck your forehead. You don't pull away like you usually do. Instead, you launch yourself into her arms, crying into her shoulder. Your mother coos, a soft sound like that of a babbling brook._

_"Ssh, darling, it's going to be okay," she murmurs encouragingly into your ear while her hands take to rubbing your small back. You sniffle, clutching her tighter. You hear someone clear their voice, drawing the both of you apart. You turn to see your father staring at you with a bittersweet expression splayed across his face. He sighs deeply as you turn away from your mother and walk over to him with a slouch. He scoops you up in his strong arms and holds you close to his body, keeping you warm as you begin to shiver._

_"What if you don't come back for a long time?" You ask innocently, your voice quivering. Your father shakes his head as he swings you gently in his arms. You've always found that motion to be calming and soothing. This situation is no different than the rest. He smiles as he sees you beginning to relax in his arms._

_"Lara," he tells you with a stern voice, "I made you a promise." You sniffle again, desperately trying to keep the tears from falling from your eyes. Your father looks sad, guilty even. He stays quiet for a brief moment before he pulls up the strength to muster up an encouraging nod._

_"Crofts don't make promises they can't keep, Lara," he says softly. Your eyes flash up to his words as you search his gaze for a lie, but you find none. His eyes are as they always are, sharp and clear. Your father is right, he has never broken a promise in his life, at least not to you. You can trust that much at least._

_"Okay, Daddy," you say finally, giving into him. He beams at your response, swinging you again. You begin to giggle as your mother's hand reaches over and tousles your hair. After a few more domestic moments, he sets you down, brushing your button nose with a gentle graze of his finger._

_"Master Croft," a deep, older voice calls out. Your father turns around to face the older man with a smirk. The man nods his head, a keen sparkle twinkling in his eyes as he looks to you. You grin and wipe your eyes as he gives you a playful wink._

_"You mustn't worry," he tells you with an adoring smile, "we're going to have a splendid time, Ms Croft, don't you know it." He says the words before finishing with a tip of his head. You laugh as he gives you a small bow to top it all off. You place your body shyly behind your mother's leg as your father steps over to him, clapping him lightly on the shoulder._

_"Take care of my little girl, Winston," he says with a nod, looking at you with a proud gaze. "She's very dear to me. Look after her well." Winston smiles and nods._

_"You know that I'll guard her like she's my own, sir," he replies curtly, dipping his head with respect. Your father squeezes his shoulder, causing Winston's head to nod back up._

_"No need for that now, Winston," he says with his charismatic Croft smirk, "you're family. I trust you with my life, and with hers. She's in the best hands, right?" Winston chuckles as he looks back at you, his smile beaming from cheek to cheek. You can't help the giggle that breaks your lips as he makes a funny face at you._

_"Right!" You answer excitedly for him. Your mother chuckles and your father grins his famous lopsided smile at you. He walks back over, reaching down to pick you back up in his arms._

_"Uncle Roth is waiting for us at the airport, so we'd best get a move on," he says softly, kissing your forehead. You feel your heart plummet as you think about being left alone again. You grip your father tighter, nuzzling your head into his stubbled neck. A few tears drip down your cheeks as you close your eyes, taking in his scent and the feel of his arms around you._

_"Sweetheart," he whispers gently, "we'll be back in a few days, I promise. It'll almost be as though it was all a dream." You tighten your muscles at his words, fighting the urge to cry. He hums into your ear, rubbing your back as he pecks the top of your head._

_"My darling heart," he coos into your ear, "you'll be awake before you know it, Lara. When you do, we'll be right here, like we'd never left." You pull back and place your small hands on the stubble of his beard. He takes one of his hands and places it on your wrist, squeezing gently._

_"Lara?" He asks with a gentle hum. Hesitantly, you nod and he sets you down. Your feet touch the ground softly as he lets you go so your mother can hug you one more time. _

_"You're my brave girl," your mother tells you strongly, but you can hear her voice wavering as she pulls back from the hug to give you an encouraging nod. "You'll be okay, Lara." _

_Winston opens the door and starts taking your parents' luggage to the taxi waiting in the rain. You hear the thunderstorms booming over head and you shiver out of fear and out of the cold that has now begun to creep up around your small frame. You always hated storms. Your mother looks to your father, wordlessly communicating with him. You can see her giving him a pleading gaze, as if she, too, were reluctant to leave you on your own. You squeeze your little bunny tighter to your chest as Winston returns, giving your father a grim smile._

_"We'll be seeing you in a few days, Master Croft," he says, extending his hand. Your father takes it, shaking it firmly as your mother ducks her head away. She steps out into the courtyard first, leaving your father behind with Winston. Your father leans in and whispers something into Winston's ear, his lips moving fast and his words sharp. You watch as the butler's face grows dark for a moment before he nods. Your father pulls back and gives him a half-hearted smile, nodding again. Winston sucks in a deep breath and returns the nod of his head, stepping back into the house. _

_Your father turns to you, his eyes lit with pride and joy. He walks backwards to where your mother stands by the cabbie, his footsteps long and slow. She stands slouched, crouching under the umbrella of the driver. Her eyes look sad and pained as she glances at you with a lost expression. You feel fear settle in your stomach again as you reach out for her. You go to move, but you feel Winston's strong hand on your shoulder. You turn your gaze back to your father, now smiling mournfully at you. Winston grips your shoulder slightly tighter, offering you silent support as your bottom lip begins to tremble. Your father doesn't break eye contact with you as he purses his lips._

_"Wake up, Lara," he says softly, his voice getting swept away in the storm, "it's all a dream."_

/

"… a dream," you hear someone say frantically. Your mind and body are slowly getting accustomed to being back in the conscious realm. You make out more commotion over the ebbing ringing in your ears. You take a deep breath as you listen to the person continue to speak.

"No…, yes, no, I don't fucking know! Reyes…, no! Of course I'm not 'wearing her out'! What? No, I haven't fucked her, she has a hole in her stomach! Why the hell did I bother calling you? I don't need lecturing, I need your advice, Reyes. " You hear Sam's voice sound angrily in the room. You don't open your eyes yet. You still feel heavy and warm as you lay in a soft cushion of sheets. You can only breathe, and for some reason you're reminded of the time when Sam had been sitting with you on the boat back on Yamatai.

"Fuck off," you hear Sam snarl lithely, "and fuck you, Reyes. I _love_ her, dammit." You listen to Sam as her anger dissipates and she begins to sob. There's small static noises coming from one end of the room. _She must be on the phone with Reyes_, you conclude, _but why is she so mad?_ You let out a low groan as a pounding ensues in your head. You try to open your eyes, but it feels like you have anchors tied to your eyelids.

"Reyes, shut the fuck up!" Sam shouts into the phone. "I know what happened to Roth, okay?! I know that you fucking loved him and you lost him, but that was _not_ Lara's fault! My girlfriend, the love of my _fucking_ life, is lying unconscious on the bed where we lie night after night. Each time I look at her I feel like I am standing here watching it happen all over again. Do you have any idea as to how _I'm_ fucking feeling?!"

Your heart constricts as you hear the heated words fly out of her mouth. You want to call out to her, to tell her that you're still here with her, no matter how battered and broken you may be, but you're alive and you're not leaving her. Outside, you can hear booming of rolling thunder. You're confused all of the sudden; you'd just woken up what seemed like a few minutes ago. How could it be storming outside? The weather in Japan was not _that_ unpredictable, was it? You let out a muffled groan, but the sound is masked by Sam yelling into the phone again, her voice a high shrill.

"Reyes, I watched her _die_! I watched as she was carried away, as they performed CPR so many times, I… I watched that machine shut off, Reyes," Sam cries out, shaking her head in agony as you hear footsteps. Sam always paces when she's upset. You need to get to her attention.

"I kissed her, Reyes," Sam says, her voice a bare whisper now. You can feel the raw pain radiating off of her from wherever she stands in the room. You can hear her crying harder now, sobs crackling louder than the lightening outside the suffocating four walls.

"I kissed her, and only _then_ did she wake up," Sam whispers hoarsely. You choke back tears as you listen to Sam sigh as she says in a cold, distant voice, "trust me, Reyes. You may not have had the chance to kiss him, but you would never want to kiss the person you love when their heart isn't beating. It… it sucks the life out of you. Even when I kiss her now…"

Sam trails off, her voice going softer as it begins to fade out of your mind. You suck in a deep breath as you focus on slowing the intakes and exhales of your breath. Sam's pacing has stopped as well. For a moment, you can't hear anything besides the blood pumping in your ears. You try moving again, but it's no use. Are you paralyzed? What's happening? Why can't you do anything? You let out a soft cry part your lips, but it's too quiet for even you to hear.

"Even when I kiss her now, Reyes," Sam whispers, her voice cracking; she's closer to you than before. You feel something warm press against your cheek and you deduce that it's her hand cupping your face gently.

"Even when I kiss her now," she repeats in a low stutter, the words quivering as they leave her lips, "I feel that coldness inside of her mouth. She's alive, but I can't shake that feeling away. A part of her will always feel dead to me, no matter how she is now. I… it hurts so much. It hurts so damned much, Reyes." There's a pause as you make out some more garbled static come from beside you. You hear the bed sigh as weight adds to one side in particular. You feel Sam's thumb stroking your cheek softly as she sniffles. Something wet drops upon your skin and you realize she is still crying.

"She's asleep," Sam breathes out in exasperation, her voice softer and void of the anger she had before. _God_, you think as you feel the bed creak, _she's in so much agony._ _Dammit Lara, can't you just open your eyes or grunt? Do something, you moron!_ You can't seem to find any strength as you feel the all too familiar waves of fatigue crash over you again. Sam's hand removes itself from your cheek and the dropping of her tears upon your skin stops.

"No, I don't," Sam breathes as you hear her voice fading, "I don't know when she'll wake up."

/

_Four days._

_That's how long it's been since your parents were meant to come home. Winston doesn't say anything, but you can tell that he's getting worried, too. It's not like your mother or father to fall behind schedule. You plant yourself by the giant front window, taking fort until they arrive. It hasn't stopped raining or storming outside. The thunder scares you enough already, but without your mother or father's soothing arms to run to, you feel even more empty and alone. _

_"A cup of hot cocoa, my lady?" You hear Winston say from behind you, interrupting the silent vigil you didn't know you'd been holding. You sniffle and look at him with your wide hazel eyes brimming with worry. A flash of light strikes outside the door, startling you. You whimper as you press your hand against the cool glass._

_"Ms Croft," Winston says with a worried glance at you and then outside, "you mustn't be frightened. You know that they'll be here soon enough. Perhaps the storms caused a delay in their flights." You don't say anything as you peer into the gloomy clouds. Another cackle of thunder causes you to jump and you whimper out of reflex. You want to cry but you can't seem to find the tears. You curl into your father's armchair, catching the faint whiff of his scent._

_"How do you know that?" You mutter into your chest with a grumble. You feel your body shake as you clutch your stuffed bunny closer to rest underneath your jaw. Winston sets down the steaming mug and sits down across from you. His eyes are guarded but calm as he sighs gently._

_"Ms Croft, your father is always one to keep his promises," he says quietly before following your gaze outside, "_despite_ how reckless he may be at times." You don't question what he means, but instead turn away from the window and reach for the cup of cocoa. Winston has made it like you always like it, not too hot and not too sweet. The corners of your lips tug up in brief smile._

_"I suppose it is up to Croft standards, then?" Winston asks with a raise of his brow as he smirks at you. You shrug, but you can't hide your grin as you sheepishly take another tentative sip._

_"Maybe," you counter, playfully sticking out your tongue. Winston chuckles as he turns back to look out the window. You turn your attention to the hot liquid, but before you can do or say anything, you see Winston stand suddenly from the corner of your eye. You turn your head to see him rigid and tense, staring blankly out the window. You follow his gaze to see a black car pull in to the long driveway, rain pelting down at the metal sides._

_"They're home!" You exclaim, nearly knocking over your cup of cocoa as you rush upwards towards the door. Winston is frozen behind you, unable to move. You wonder for a brief second as to what he is staring at, but you're too impatient to care. You just want to see your parents again. You bolt to the front door, whipping the heavy wooden frame open. Thunder booms overhead as you complete the action, but you're not scared this time._

_"Daddy!" You scream joyfully as you run out in the rain, not caring that your pyjamas are getting soaked. Your socked feet grow damp with every step. You watch the cab door open and a wide smile grows upon your face. _Your parents are home_, you think happily, _your parents are finally home_. You see a pair of scuffed boots step onto the ground but you can't make out who's feet they belong to._

_"Daddy!" You shout again, approaching the door. You watch as the figure steps out, their back to you. You stop in your tracks as you realize that the man standing before you is not your father._

_"Uncle Roth?" You say, confused. The man turns around, and you see him sigh. You dart in front of him and look into the cabbie for your father and mother, but find it empty._

_"Uncle Roth," you say with a whimper, looking back to the broad shouldered man, "where's Daddy and Mummy?" Roth takes a sharp breath at your question. You look past him to see Winston standing in the rain with an umbrella, his head bowed in solemnity. Roth sucks in a sharp breath as he scratches at the blondish grey stubble. You can make out a faint scar running down his left eyebrow in the flash of the lightening. You wait for his answer but he doesn't reply._

_"Uncle Roth?" You ask with a slight shrill to your voice. You walk over and tug on his pants leg. He bows his head to look at you with one of the most bone-chilling expressions you've ever seen. His eyes are so empty, you're scared that he's going to suck you up. You take a step back in shock, your bottom lip quivering as you clutch your bunny tighter._

_"Lara," Roth says softly, his eyes following you warily as you retreat towards Winston. Roth looks up to the butler with a dejected gaze, and you can make out some moisture in his eyes. You curl your arms around Winston's leg, clutching it out of desperation and confusion._

_Where are they?_

_"Let's get you into the manor, little one," Winston rumbles gently, his voice light and airy as he places a soft hand to the space between your shoulder blades. Roth is still staring at you and he looks so sad. Why does he look so sad? Where are your parents? You don't move from your spot, even though you're drenched to the bone and likely to catch a cold as a result._

_"Where are they, Winston?" You ask the older man, your words a bare whisper over the raging thunder and pounding rain. Winston sighs as he dips his head remorsefully, falling silent to your question. His expression worries you. You've never seen him this upset. You watch as Roth steps closer to you, his face unchanged from before. You glance at him as he kneels before you, water dripping along the side of his jaw. Some of the droplets catch in his stubble as he grimaces._

_"Lara," he says to you as gently as he can. You shake your head at him._

_"Daddy," you cry out, "he promised, Uncle Roth. He said that he would be back and it would be like waking up from a dream! He promised me that he'd come back. Where is he?!" You shout at him, gripping Winston's leg tighter in desperation. _

_"Lara," Roth says again, his voice lowering as he bows his head, "your parents…, they…"_

_He doesn't need to finish his sentence. He… _can't_ finish his sentence._

_You bury your head into Winston's leg, crying out in agony as you realize that your father, for the first time in his life, _lied_ to you. You cry for your mother, who had been so reluctant to let you go. You cry because you will never get to see them. Your small, six year old heart is crushed because for the first time, you are truly alone. You feel Winston's arm wrap around the small of your back as he kneels, too. You throw your arms around his shoulders, burying your head into his shoulder as you sob uncontrollably. Your bunny falls to the ground, getting drenched in the downpour. Behind you, you can hear the muted sniffling of Roth crying too. _Uncle Roth never cries_, you think, _Uncle Roth never cries, but now he's crying_. The simple action can only confirm your fearful thoughts._

_They're… gone._

Lara_, you hear that all too familiar whisper from your nightmares call out to you, _I'm so sorry_._

/

You jerk your eyes open half way to see something hazy in front of you. You blink a few times before you see a pale, blurred figure standing in front of you with their hands stretching out for you. You feel something wet and cool press against your forehead, relieving you of the burning that has built up over time. Small droplets weave their way through the few scars in your skin, melding with the sweat beading down your face slowly. You let out a faint whimper as tears sting at your eyes.

"Ssh," a broken voice calls out, "ssh, sweetheart." You feel your throat go dry as you try to swallow but fail. Your eyes shift around the room as your vision begins to clear. You finally make out Sam sitting in front of you, her shoulders slumped and her eyes darkened with fatigue. She tries to give you a smile but she can't. Your jaw hinges painfully as you choke back another gasp. She looks far frailer and thinner than when you'd last seen her. You part your mouth and attempt to say something, but no sound comes out of your mouth.

_Lara_, the whisper returns like a whistle in the wind, _I'm so sorry_.

You shake your head fervently, blocking out the sound as you feel your mind become clouded with a rush of voices. You make out some of what they're saying, but most of it is jumbled and disorientating. Your hands tremble upon the soft sheets as the cold cloth is removed from your forehead. The heat rises to your skin like you are a volcano ready to burst. You can see Sam from your glazed vision, dipping that cloth in a small bowl filled with ice water. She wrings it out before turning back to you. She lightly drapes the cloth over your forehead and you flinch.

"You're going to be okay, Lara," Sam murmurs tiredly, mostly to herself. Her voice doesn't sound convincing and you can feel the slight tremors from her delicate fingers as they brush away the lingering drops of water upon your forehead.

"I lost you once, Lara," Sam whispers, pulling her hand back to rest in her lap. Her face looks haggard and weary, and you can tell that she hasn't been sleeping. Sam bows her head slowly, closing her eyes as her shoulders shake. A sob breaks her lips and she lets loose a strangled cry.

"I can't lose you again, Lara," Sam breathes between hiccuped breaths, "I can't let you go another time, my love." Her hand reaches down and gently grasps yours. She's so cold, so lost, so alone and you can't reach her. Somehow, you will yourself to gather up all the strength you have into lightly squeezing her hand back. Though your eyes are glazed and blankly staring at her, you can see that she knows you're not really here.

"Stay with me, baby," Sam says strongly, gripping your hand tighter. You let out a soft gasp at her words and Sam's breath hitches. Tears continue to roll down her cheeks like she's the human equivalent of a waterfall. She bites her lip as she lifts your arm and presses your palm against the cool flesh of her chest. Her thumb strokes over the back of your hand as she gives you the most heartbreaking, pleading glance.

"Stay with me, Lara," Sam calls out as your eyelids begin to droop again, "just stay with me."

/

_Today, you are attending your first funeral._

_It hasn't stopped raining since Roth came. He's downstairs in the den talking with Winston. You don't know what they're discussing, but you don't care. You've not left your room since he came. You're angry at your father for lying, but also mourning because you'll never see him again to tell him just how anger you are. You just want them to come back. You hear his last words to you ring over and over again in your head like a broken record._

Wake up, Lara.

_You've been trying to wake up. That's all you've been trying to do. You will lay in your bed, blinking your eyes open constantly as you stare at the cracks in your ceiling. You realize, as your eyes trace each jagged line, that they will never compare to the void left in your heart. You feel so empty, as if you have no soul or being residing with you; you feel like you're a vessel and nothing more. You don't have the energy to read those books Uncle Roth had bought you because they remind you of the frustration you have pent up at him for returning without your father. You don't understand how it all went wrong. They were only supposed to be gone a few days. They were supposed to come back, to take you to the museum, the movie, and get ice cream._

_"Ms Croft," you hear Winston clear his throat from your doorway. You don't look at him as you sit crouched on your window sill, your face pressed up against the glass. You watch the water droplets spatter against the frame, the sound soothing your erratically beating heart._

_"The car is ready. You must get dressed," he says as gently as he can, but he doesn't move from his spot. You don't say anything as you continue to stare outside the window with a blank gaze._

_"I don't want to go," you tell him bitterly, still avoiding him. You hear Winston sigh as the floorboards creak when he enters your room. You refuse to turn your head or acknowledge him as you pull your knees up to your chest and lock your arms around your legs. You still have your pyjamas on and you haven't bathed since last night._

_"Lara," you hear a low voice rumble from the corner of the room. You shift your gaze slightly to the side to see Roth, donned in a classic black suit and thin tie, standing against the frame. You scowl at him in disgust as you turn your head away._

_"Go away," you cry out, fighting back tears. "I don't want to talk to you." There are more footsteps as Roth joins Winston a few feet from where you stay crouched. _

_"Lara-"_

_"I said get away!" You scream suddenly, releasing your grip on your knees so that you can jump down from the sill. You run at him, shoving your small fingers into his legs as you attempt to ram him over in your blind fury. Tears stream down your face as you punch his thighs, sobbing hard._

_"G-Get… g-get away," you cry hysterically, before your strength gives out. You end up slumped against his legs as you continue to bawl your eyes out. Roth's arms slowly wind their way around your trembling body and you gasp, gulping up as much air as your small lungs can in the space._

_"Ssh, Lara, come here, girl," he whispers softly, kneeling down. He swallows you up in a protective embrace. You duck your head into his shoulder, crying harder as you feel the stubble of his beard against your cheek. It feels like so much like your father, and you can't help but feel a bittersweet comfort it in it all. Roth's arms tighten around you, holding you close to him with a protective grip._

_"I've got you, girl," he tells you securely, "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, dear one." You stay silent for a few moments, simply allowing the last of your sobs to ebb off, before you nod slowly. You curl your fingers in his shirt and push your face closer to his cheek. Roth gives you another tight squeeze before he lets you go. You reluctantly pull away, but still hide your face in the crook of his arm. Roth looks up to Winston, who sends him a grim smile. The butler nods his head at the both of you before parting._

_"Come on," Roth murmurs, patting your head as your mother used to, "let's get you dressed."_

_The funeral procession is short and quiet. _

_You don't have much family bare from some distant relatives, as your grandparents were dead long before you were even born, and your mother and father didn't have any siblings of which you are aware. There are only about a dozen or so people that you actually know at the funeral. You don't talk to them though; you stay stuck to Roth's side like glue, terrified that should he leave you, you'd fall apart. You're still angry at him, but you know that he's the last thing you have that reminds you of your father. Winston, as always, accompanies you as well, shielding you away from whispering adults that stare at you with their cold, beady eyes. They hover near you like vultures, leaving you feeling vulnerable. You make out a few sentences being thrown around, the words stabbing sharply at your already wounded heart._

'How could they leave a little girl behind like that?'

'Richard should have known better.'

'What was she thinking trusting that man?'

_You don't know it, but you have the same questions. You want to ask Winston or Roth, but you don't have the courage to find out the answers. So, you will remain silent until one day you _can_ ask those questions. For now, you remain quiet and steady, like the calm before a storm. Roth guides you over to the graveyard, where the pastor and your relatives wait to do the final step. You don't fully understand why there's a burial session if there was nothing to bury._

_Roth had been on the later flight from their connection in Nepal. It was pure luck for him that it got cancelled due to a mechanical problem. Your father and mother had gotten on the small plane and flown through those dreadful storms on their way to some small town located just before Himalayas. They had never found the bodies, and everyone that had done reports on the crash said that trying to find a plane that small in the vast forests and ice lands of Northeast Asia would be near impossible. Something in your heart can't believe that they're gone. Your father was an explorer and he always told you that explorers never give up. As you watch Roth and the pastor lower those empty caskets into the ground, you realize that you can't bring yourself to give up either. They're still out there, and you know it. The small group of people soon thin out and before you know it, it's only you, Roth, and Winston left staring at the two wooden caskets laying six feet beneath the surface. You stare at the coffins with a glare hardened by grief and anger._

One day_, you think to yourself as you bow your head in mourning, _I will find them_._

_And when you find them, you will bring them home._

/

_Lara_, you hear a voice calling out to you, _Lara, wake up_.

You blink open your eyes again, this time able to move them just a little more than halfway open. You swallow the lump stuck in your throat and let out a wispy breath. You feel sensation return to your body, slowly but surely. You turn your head slightly, but you see that there's no one in the room with you. Sunlight pours in through the cracked window beside your bed. Your stomach still aches and your forehead feels a little clammy, but you don't feel warm or fuzzy.

_Wake up_, the whisper repeats calmly, _like it's all a dream_.

You find courage in the voice lingering inside your mind. Mustering up as much strength as you can, you lift your head, finding it to be weighting less than what you had originally thought it to be. You can't hear the whispers anymore. Your mind feels as though it has been relieved of the sickness that had intruded it. You feel shockingly well rested as you manage to stiffly stumble into a sitting position. You look around the room, surprised to find it bare. You look down to see that your tank top is protruding at your middle from the extra padding of bandage that envelopes your torso. You run your fingers over the bump, but you feel no pain because the layers are so thick.

You hoist your legs over the bed, flattening the heels of your feet against the cool floorboards. You curl your toes and look down at them. It feels so strange to feel things again. Slowly, you rise from your sitting position. You're a little wobbly at first, but then you manage to steady yourself and stand strong. You take a few small steps, trying to get a feel for your legs again. You don't know how long you've been asleep, but at this rate, you're assuming it must've been awhile. You limp through the doorway and into the kitchen, only to be met with a solemn sight.

Sam's body is leaned over the kitchen table. Her head is literally laying in an open textbook, and she has her laptop in front of her. Empty cups and unwashed dishes surround her small body. For a moment, you feel as though you are back in university and she is struggling to catch up on finishing a paper she had procrastinated on. You let out a deep sigh as you tentatively make your way towards her. As you draw nearer, you can see that there are a mess of papers strewn about on the mahogany surface. Pens, pencils, and notepads are scattered haphazardly across the kitchen table. Everything surrounds her, as if she were preparing a sacrificial offering or trying to communicate with another realm.

You finally reach her, only to hear the soft, exhausted snores coming from her parted mouth. You turn and get a better angle to see that Sam is in deep sleep, drooling on the textbook beneath her head. You recognize that textbook from college; it was for her life science course. You look at the papers to see a bunch of medical reports. As your eyes briefly scan the material she has been reading, both electronically and physically (which was a rarity; Sam hated textbooks), you make out the words 'infection', 'fever', 'prescription antibiotics', and 'antibiotic resistance', recurring as if she were trying to memorize them for a immunology exam she had the next day. You can see that she's highlighted several of her notes and scribbled out a few lines as if she'd been frustrated with getting the answer wrong. You feel your heart ache for her as she whimpers your name in her sleep.

"Sam," you whisper softly, your hand coming to rest on her back. She stirs and lets out a faint cry, burying her face deeper into the book. You glance down at her sides, grimacing when you see how thin she has become. Her ribs are visible through the thin layers of her tank, making her seem scrawny and small. You look at the date on her watch and gasp when you see the number.

Two weeks?

How had you been filtering in and out of sleep for two _whole_ weeks? You look back at Sam, even more concerned now. You glance at the sink to see it only littered in empty mugs and pots of coffee. You clutch at your heart faintly as you realize that Sam had basically given up everything to help you. You turn your gaze back down to your dedicated and resilient girlfriend and sigh deeply. You limp back into the bedroom and grab your comforter. Carefully moving her laptop and jumbled notes away, you lay the thick blanket upon her shoulders. You peck the top of her head and sigh as you hear her let out another faint murmur of distress. You wish that you could carry her back to the bed like you'd carried her down the mountain, but you don't have the strength or stamina to do so without injuring yourself further.

"Oh Sam," you say gently, stroking her longer, tangled hair. You can tell that she's not showered in a while, as flecks of grease stick to your fingers. You aren't disgusted, though. Instead, you are grateful for all the work she has been doing while you were indisposed. You kiss her temple, unfazed by the smell of stale sweat that radiates off her.

"I love you, my darling," you tell her in a soft coo. She shifts her face again, but remains in deep sleep. You take a breath before you say, "I'm not leaving you, Sam. I made you a promise."

After ensuring that she is as comfortable as she can be, you turn back to the living room. You sit down on the couch so you can see Sam in the corner of your eye, but are still able to gaze at the panoramic view of the sunrise filtering over Osaka's city skyline. You think about how you had been here just a few weeks ago, and to where you are now. You aren't recovered fully, but you feel better. You feel more at ease. You take a deep breath, and for once, nothing constricts your lungs or clogs your throat. You close your eyes, and you see darkness only. You focus your hearing and you are reduced to only the faint humming of the air conditioning unit above you. Your body rejuvenates with a newfound sense of purpose and energy, and you feel ready to conquer what awaits you.

"I made a promise," you say to yourself. You remember your dreams of your father and mother. You no longer feel rage harboured towards them, but remorse and guilt. You had spent nearly fifteen years of your life angry at them for leaving you, but as you open your eyes to look at Sam, you realize that you very nearly made the same mistake they did. You don't believe that the plane crash was a freak accident. You have to find out what happened to them. As you look back to Sam, splayed out over the table and snoring in deep slumber, you grit your teeth in solemn guilt. As soon as you are healed, you know where you are going to go.

"I have to go back," you whisper, gazing back at the rising sun, "I have to find them."


	5. Across the Line: Sam

**A/N: This chapter is rated M for MATURE because of the light references to previous rape/sexual abuse. **Hey guys, so sorry this took so long to come out! I've been super busy with my finals and today is my birthday so I thought I'd try for an update! Again, terribly sorry it's taken so long. Please let me know what you think of the story so far, especially of the rating it's been assigned. I'm unsure if it's too low for its content. Also, the plot is getting introduced. I hope you all are liking it, and thanks for the encouraging reviews and PM's so far! You are incredible people! Enjoy! :)

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**The Nishimura Vacation Home - Osaka, Japan**

You feel something warm touch your back lightly, stirring you to consciousness. Inside your bones, you feel fire running through the rivulets of marrow and you fight the urge to drown in the heat. The flames lick at your skin, and for a moment, you believe that you are about to incinerate from the blistering temperature. Your eyes won't open and your body can't move, but you feel something heavy drape over your shoulders. Your breaths quicken as you feel your lungs constrict with anxiety. _This is it_, you think, _this is my death_.

"Sam," you hear a soft feminine voice call out. You recognize that voice anywhere. You want to bolt upwards to face Lara and to confirm your suspicions, but you have no energy. Are you asleep or are you awake? You cannot tell nor can you will yourself to find out. You're trapped in limbo, unaware and slowly slipping from the conscious world. You're so tired, so worn, so exhausted. You could be dead for all you know, or maybe just transcending into the next realm.

"I'm not leaving you," you hear Lara speak again, "I made you a promise."

You must be dreaming. Lara hasn't been awake in nearly two weeks. There was no way that she could have said those things. She was fever ridden, on the brink of death if not already dead. You remember the hospital, when you kissed her back to life. The memories create a void in your heart, but you cannot find anything to fill the gaping chasm. It'll expand and soon enough, the emptiness will consume you like a black hole, sucking in everything you are only to never again be seen. You try and think about the last time you ate or slept or even _drank_ anything. You can't remember. You just feel the hard, cool length of the textbook beneath your weary head and the soft warmth of a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You try to grunt out something, but you can't seem to muster up the strength to do so. You want to call out to her, for her to assure you that you've not lost your mind and that she _is_ truly alive, but you can't.

You can't and as each second passes, it kills you.

/

You are woken again, but this time to the rumbling of your stomach. You groan inwardly as you slowly blink the sleep away from your eyes. Everything is fuzzy and blurred for a moment, but soon your gaze readjusts and you make out the dark moonlight filtering in from the living room. You can see someone sitting slumped on the couch, but you don't know who it is. You moan as a sharp jab of pain sears through your stomach.

_Are you hungry, my lady? _

You see him in your vision, standing with his makeshift spear. A wide, wicked grin is splayed across his cracked lips as he stares at you with a ragged expression. His eyes are dark with rage and lust as he stares at you. He walks closer, his spear clunking against the ground as he makes his way closer. You try to run away from him, but you can't. You are stuck, your hands bound to the wooden mast behind you. A waterfall gushes in the background you as you watch the men filter in front the caves, each of them holding a candle as if they were bound for a sacrilegious sacrifice. They're humming a low, solemn tune, one that you'd associate with a funeral procession. You scream, but the sound is muted by your cloth gag. Mathias chuckles lowly, shaking his head.

_I'll give you something to eat, my Queen._

You snap your eyes open as you hear Mathias' voice ring in your ears. You nearly bolt upright at the sound wavering through the small hairs of your ear canal. Goosebumps consume your skin like a tidal wave and you shiver out of fear and the cold. You take a deep breath as you clench the side of the table to remind you that you are _not_ back on that retched island. You close your eyes, only to see Himiko's ghastly smirk staring back at you. Clutching your head, you gasp, blinking your eyes open again. The noise you make stirs the person from the couch.

"Sam?"

Lara?

"Sam, oh God, you're awake!" Lara's voice is bright and hopeful as she steps towards you. You wobble as you stand to your feet. You glance down to the bedroom to see that the door is open, not as you had previously left it. You take a deep breath and step back, away from Lara.

"You were asleep," you tell her with a quiver to your voice, "you're not real, are you?" Lara's figure creeps into view and your back hits the cabinet. You take a shuddering breath, panic starting to flow down your bloodstream. Your mind spins as you try to breathe deeply, in and out, but you cannot seem to find a state of tranquility.

"Sam," Lara coos gently, standing still as to not further startle you. She looks well rested, though the black circles under her eyes might say something otherwise. She peers at you questioningly. You shake your head and stare at her with a wild look in your eye.

"Get out of my fucking head!" You scream at her, clenching your fingers into fists. Your hair covers parts of your face in ragged knots and strands, and you're almost certain that you look nothing short of rabid. You shake your head furiously at her again, bunching what little muscle you have. Lara stops immediately, her eyes laced with concern and fear.

"Sam, it's me," she pleads again softly, her hand reaching out for you. You fight the urge to cry and run away as her fingertips graze over the skin of your cheek. You growl and shove at her shoulders out of defence. Lara hardly reacts as you stiffen and press yourself back against the cool ridge of the counter. You stare at her maniacally and she pulls back.

"Get out of my fucking head, you son of a bitch!" you shout deliriously again, feeling your throat close up in the tell tale sign of a panic attack. You clutch at your head as your mind spins. Mathias is there, and so is Himiko. Now, Lara's here too. You scream something incoherent as you keep trying to space yourself between Lara and the voices in your head. Wisps of her energy flood through your veins, causing an emptiness to stir within your soul. You hear her calling out to you, her cold fingers curling themselves around your throat to cut off your air as her lips attach to yours to suck the life from your lungs. You collapse against the counter, slumping down until you crumble into a weeping, shuddering mess.

"G-Get…," you stammer between sobs, "g-get out of my h-head." Lara is silent, watching you like a hawk watches its prey. You're almost tempted to strip yourself bare and ask her, no, _beg_ her, to consume you, just to put you out of your pained misery. You turn your stare to the ground as your shoulders shake harder. The voices are getting louder and disjointed, and your mind is like a tornado on fire.

As you are about to be swept up in your storm, a hand places itself on your shoulder.

Just like that, it all disappears.

The voices, the agony, the confusion, all gone. You feel your body grow limp under the touch as you finally collapse to the ground. Your face is pushed up against the cool tiles. You let the sensation wash over you as you close your eyes. Nothing but darkness shows up, and you are more than grateful. Your mind gives you peace for a moment, allowing you to recuperate from your anxiety attack. You focus on deep, long breaths, trying to time it to the ticking of the clock the wall. Soon enough, you fall back into a steady rhythm, the panic ebbing off with a throbbing ache.

"Sam," Lara breathes out again. This time, you muster up the courage to blink open your eyes half way to look up at her. You somewhat expect someone to creep up behind her and startle the both of you. Your nerves return on an all time high as you begin to shake. Your stomach growls again and you clasp a hand over your midriff, grimacing as hunger pains shoot through you once more.

"Sam," Lara whispers with a sympathetic voice, "when was the last time you ate?"

You don't answer her, you're too caught up with the fact that after so long of being asleep, she's kneeling right in front of you, awake and well. You shake your head, the only action you manage to complete, before you slump back against the floor. Lara hums something incoherent as she steps forward tentatively, her body tensing as it approaches yours.

You want to fight her off, but you can't help but collapse as she pulls you into her arms, her grip slightly stronger than the last you'd remembered. Lara mumbles sweet nothings into your ear as she helps you up, her arms cupped under yours in support. She brings you over to sit back at the table, now clear of your laptop, pens and pencils, and assortment of notes. Lara goes to open the fridge, pulling out a jar of jam, the container of milk, and a pudding cup. From the drawer, she whips out the half empty container of peanut butter and the loaf of whole wheat bread.

Lara makes you a sandwich in silence, obviously waiting for you to speak first. You want to go up and help her, but your body feels as though it had been melded with the chair. Your head droops on your arms as you feel tired again. Lara looks over at you from the counter, concern blazing in those beautiful carnelian eyes, but you don't say anything. Before you can notice, she's settling a glass of milk and your sandwich in front of you. She reaches for the pudding cup and tears it open, grabbing a spoon as she sits down beside you. You stare at the sandwich, feeling nauseous with hunger. It's a strange, almost paradoxical kind of feeling, but you swallow the uneasiness brewing in your chest once more. You take one half of the sandwich and tentatively place it at your lips. You smell the simpleness of meal and you're transported back to your dormitory days in college where you'd feed off of them constantly.

But when you put it in your mouth, you taste nothing but ash.

You choke out a sob as you take a small bite before setting it down. Your stomach flops as you shake your head, tears beginning to stroll down your cheeks as you finally realize how weak you've become. You were supposed to be taking care of Lara, and here you are, crying over a damned sandwich like an giant baby. You bow your head, unable to look at Lara. _God_, you think bitterly, _she must think I'm so weak and spineless right now_. Lara doesn't say anything, but she keeps her gaze steady and strong, her eyes fixed to your popping collarbones and pale skin. It takes you a few moments to regain your sanity before you reach for the sandwich again, willing yourself to eat.

If not for you, but for her.

"There you go, sweetheart," Lara murmurs encouragingly, nodding her head. You still avoid eye contact with her as you chew slowly, making sure that as you swallow, the pieces of mashed bread don't trigger your gag reflex. You finally manage to scarf down half a sandwich before you find your voice, turning to face Lara. You don't look at her, but at her tank top, now pushing out from the bandage underneath it. The cloth the nurse used this time isn't flimsy, but sturdy.

"How long have you been awake?" You croak, your throat raw from the lack of use. Lara nudges the glass of milk towards you as she swallows another spoonful of the chocolate snack. You draw a tentative sip, grateful for the cooling relief it provides to the fiery ache in your throat.

"I got up a few hours ago," Lara states simply, as if she were discussing something as menial as the weather. You hold the glass out from you in midair, confused as to how she could be so nonchalant about it. You feel angry, frustrated, _appalled_ at her lack of disregard. Lara winces at the look in your eye and rubs the back of her neck tenderly.

"I didn't want to wake you up, so I just put the blanket over you and napped on the couch." You take in her explanation with another sip from the milk. Lara's lips purse, as if she were struggling to figure out what to say next, but she soon sighs and bows her head. You shake yours, setting the glass down harder than you originally wanted to have done.

"Two weeks, Lara," you snarl out more aggressively than you'd intended, "you were fucking asleep for _two weeks_ and you couldn't wake me up? How do I know that I'm not dreaming? How do I know that I'm not fucking insane?!" Lara winces at your tone, leaning back as though you'd stung her. She bites her lip and looks as though she is about to cry. Instantly, you feel bad for lashing out at her. You know that you've not slept well since you'd been rescued from that cursed island and its affecting your temper and patience, amongst other things.

"Sam," she mewls your name pathetically, like a wounded animal. You close your eyes, battling away at the horrifying images that plague your mind as you try your hardest to focus on the present. You hide from her, like the coward you are. Lara is whimpering beside you, and you don't have to look at her to know she's crying.

She's crying because of _you_.

"I lost you once, Lara," you say in an uncontrollably cold voice, your eyes blinking open to gaze shallowly at the scratches in the wooden table. You lick over your chapped lips as you cock your head up an inch to stare deep into her eyes with a lost gaze. Lara's breath hitches when she sees how empty you feel.

"I thought I'd have to let you go again," you tell her slowly, "I thought that you wouldn't wake up, despite how much help I got you or how many drugs they pumped into your system." Lara stays silent as you pause, your heart clenching at the horrifying memory of yelling at the nurse on the phone while Lara puked her guts out in the form of crimson blood. You shake it off and continue to tell her, "they kept telling me that you had to go back to the hospital, that you weren't going to make it if I kept you at home. I… I don't know why I refused, I just, I didn't want you to go."

"And so I called the nurse at home," you tell her with a breath, "and they restitched your wound, pumped you with a concoction of antibiotics, fever reducers, and anti-inflammatories and left. It was all they _could_ do. You were in and out of consciousness so much of the time. I… I still feel like you're not really here, Lara." Your voice cracks at the end as you look at her with a pleading, wanting gaze. You need her to reassure you that you've not gone insane.

"I love you, Sam," Lara says in a gentle voice, her eyes brimming with tears as she speaks. She leans forward, abandoning her pudding cup, and instead reaches for you. Her voice softens as she whispers to you, "I am here. I was lost, but you found me. I'm not leaving you, okay? I'm better now. I got better, my darling." You don't know if you can believe her or not, but you have to. You don't have any other choice other than to drive yourself into this rabbit sized hole you've been digging for the past few days.

"Lara," you breathe out, watching as she looks down at your mouth with the slightest glance. You can see her running the options in her head, but she seems unsure of what to do. She's not as quick as you with finding solutions.

"Sam," she repeats your name in a gentle hum, her eyes flickering from yours to your lips. Your fingers tremble as you reach out, lightly grazing her skin with the tips of your digits. Lara gasps at your soft touch before she bites down on her lip. You whimper as you feel your lungs concave with the tense pressure surrounding the both of you.

"Kiss me, Lara" you choke out in an airy voice. You plead with her, your hand now squeezing hers tightly. Lara mumbles something, but before you can ask what she said, her lips are on yours. They press together gently, to assure you that she's really there. Your hands stop shaking as you place them on either side of her cheeks. Lara's eyes close tightly as she parts her mouth, releasing a shuddering breath.

"God," you mutter painfully as you're struck with the bone-chilling memory of Lara waking up and hallucinating a week ago. You tug upon her face, bringing her closer to you. Lara kisses you harder, deeper, longer than she ever has before. Her tongue strokes over your bottom lip and you reflexively part your mouth to grant her entrance. You close your eyes and focus on the sound of your tongues meshing in a slightly open-mouthed kiss. Cool air breathes in with the sensation of your hot mouthes, leaving you with a juxtaposition of the temperature change. You moan in pleasure and Lara mumbles a quiet grunt of agreement. She licks at your top teeth as you groan into her mouth, pushing upwards slightly. Your girlfriend's hands trace down your arms as she stands up from her seat.

"Lara," you whimper her name painfully as you struggle to breathe from that vigorous kiss. Lara shakes her head as she reaches for your hand and draws you upwards so that you're standing once more. You watch as she takes your hands and loops them lightly around her middle. Your chest presses against hers, and you can feel the thumping of her heart against your ribs. The sensation is so raw, but it's grounding. It keeps you aware that you have not lost her.

But, is she the rock keeping you from flying away, or the anchor sinking you to your death?

"I love you, Sam," Lara whispers as she nods her head up to kiss the trail of tears left upon your cheek. Your mouth goes dry at the soft feeling of her hands tracing back down your arms.

"Oh… God," you begin to sob as you tuck your head into her neck, "God, you were so gone, Lara! I couldn't bring you back, no matter how hard I searched for you or how long I stayed by your side. You were… so lost." Lara's hands gently knot themselves in your tangled and sweaty hair, massaging lightly. You cry harder against her chest as her arms swallow you up protectively. She tightens her grip slightly to assert her presence.

"I'm here, darling," Lara murmurs soothingly, "always and forever."

Forever is a long time; it's a time that neither of you will ever live to see.

You gasp as she begins nudging your back so that she can lead you to the bedroom. You don't protest and instead simply allow her to lightly push you back to the room where this all began. The memories cloud the air, but your refreshing breaths and soft footsteps push the dark thoughts away. You keep your head in her neck as if your spine would disintegrate and your bones would combust should you remove yourself from her. She is your lifeline, your saviour, your knight in shining armour. Lara kisses you again as your eyes close shut loosely. She pulls away from your lips, instead turning to pressing light kisses to the top of your head as she guides you closer to the bed.

Before you know it, you're falling lightly upon the bedsheets. They don't smell like sweat, or blood, or disinfectant, but of lavender and lilacs. It's then when you realize that she must've changed the sheets while you were out. Your heart aches for your girlfriend as you move your hands to her hair, pulling her to rest half on top of you and half on your side. Lara grabs the comforter and moves it up, blanketing the both of you in a protective cover. You remember how you'd done the exact same thing for her only a few weeks ago. You turn your head to face Lara with a saddened expression. Her eyes are open and warm, inviting you to spill all of your darkest secrets if you're ready.

But you aren't ready, not yet. You don't know if you ever will be.

"Sleep," Lara whispers, reaching forward to curl one of your bangs behind your ear. You lean your head down so that your forehead is touching hers and she mumbles something in calming support. You look at her lightly closed eyes and feel your heart shatter. You take a deep breath, your hands shaking as they reach up to trace her sharp jawline with a soft graze of your callused and clammy fingertips.

"I _can't_," you whisper, a heartbroken plea as you watch Lara's eyes open slowly. The warmth hasn't faded, but she looks more concerned than she had been before. You look at her, barely close to twenty-two years old, and realize that she's aged terribly in such a short period of time.

You can only imagine how _you_ must look.

"I know," Lara responds, the words cracking as they leave her lips, "but you must _try_, Sam."

"Lara, it hurts," you tell her, gasping as you hear Mathias again in the back of your head. His lips are at your ear, brushing ever so lightly, but still harsh enough for you to recoil in disgust. You accidentally curl your fingers into the supple skin of Lara's cheek, but she remains unfazed as your long nails attempt to weakly tear into her flesh. She simply reaches up and curls a hand over your boney wrist, squeezing down gently to bear the weight of your burden.

"Please sleep, my love," she whispers, leaning forward to kiss you softly. Her lips move slowly against yours, soothing the fire that burbles deep inside your chest. You let your eyes close again, but Himiko's face is there, waiting for you with a sadistic smile and glowing eyes.

"Lara," you cry out as you open your eyes. Lara coos gently, snaking her arm around your shoulder to draw your body closer to hers. She uses her legs to draw your own inside of hers, so that your bodies are meshing together. You whimper again, but Lara squeezes you gently, her arms acting as a second blanket as you pull your body closer to hers.

"I am here, Sam," Lara tells you strongly as her hands rub circles upon the space between your shoulder blades, "I am here, and you are okay. You are safe, Sam. I've got you, love." You can't help but allow your body to relax under her calming words as she kisses your forehead.

"Sleep, Sam," she murmurs softly, "I'll be here when you wake up."

Finally, after more than a month of restless nights, you give into slumber.

/

You wake up to the sound of snoring.

You blink open your eyes, grateful to have gotten a few hours of undisturbed sleep. You turn to see Lara, sound asleep with her mouth open. A bit of drool drips down from the corner of her parted lips as the snores persist louder. You can't help but smile at the sight as you nudge closer to her. Her hair is splayed out like an erupted volcano of chestnut upon the pillow. You reach forward and brush a stranded lock from her cheek, causing her to snort and snore again.

You look over your shoulder to the window behind you, peering into the dazzling bright sunlight that cascades through slitted blinds to cast a striped pattern upon the sheets. You suck in a deep breath as you turn back to face Lara. You're still a bit tired, so you lean down and nuzzle your face into her shoulder. You smile as you feel Lara's arms instantly curl around you tighter, and she mumbles something in her sleep. You loop your arms around her shoulders as you pull her closer. Lara's head rolls down and her nose smashes into your hair, her breath pattering upon your scalp. You squeeze her tighter, careful of her wounds, but still needing that extra warmth.

"I love you so much, Lara Croft," you murmur into the exposed skin of her collarbone. Lara responds with a tired grunt, but you know she probably didn't hear you.

"Mm," she grumbles tiredly, "love you too." You can't help but smile at the sleepy grin you feel forming atop your head. You rub your hands over the bandage on her chest plate, kissing her shoulder again.

"Morning, baby," you smile into her skin, feeling well rested for the first time in so long. Lara smiles harder into your hair as she grunts in agreement. You feel butterflies creep at the walls of your stomach as Lara pulls you closer, rolling you slightly so that she's on her back and you're laying atop her. You make sure to distribute your weight evenly so that she's not taking your full mass, not that you're that heavy at the moment. Lara's eyes stare up at you with a sleepy, slitted gaze. Her hands are on your hips, the pads of her thumbs rubbing light circles into your cloth-covered skin.

"Good morning," Lara chuckles softly, sleep evident with the rasp in her voice. _God_, you think as you stare at her lips with longing, I_ never thought I'd hear her laugh again_. You can't help yourself as you lean down, catching you both surprise as you capture her lips in a passionate kiss. Your fingers curl and clench into the sheets beside her face as you moan into her mouth. Lara pants as her hands drift up to your sides.

"I love you so damned much," you repeat the words from before into her mouth. Lara gasps as you kiss her harder, your tongue swirling over hers in a fiery battle for dominance. Lara lets you win this one, feeling how much you need to express your love for her. Your hips lightly grind into hers without either of your conscious awareness, but neither of you seem to mind. Lara squeezes your hips as your tongue dips and rises with hers.

"Oh Sam," Lara pants as she manages to catch a breath between your heated licks and nips. Her arms wind their way around your back, pulling you down to rest atop her. You worry for a moment about her torso, but Lara shakes her head and gives you an understanding gaze. Her jaw tilts upwards, her lips brushing yours as you whimper. You lose yourself in her eyes, so warm and caring and gentle. It's all so overwhelming, looking down at her. You can see that Lara is trying hard to contain her own emotions, but your love for each other is too strong.

"I can't believe it took us this long to realize our feelings for each other," Lara trails off, looking back at your lips with a faint, bittersweet smile. You think about all you had to go through just to realize that your love for her was something more than just platonic.

"What if…," Lara stumbles on the question, her hands weaving through your tangled knots with careful and delicate strokes, "what if Yamatai never happened, Sam? Would there still be an _us_?"

You don't want to think about it, really. Yamatai could very well be a phase in which you think you're madly in love with the girl who saved your life on multiple occasions. _No_, you scold yourself, _that's that kind of 'hero worship' thing that people do_. You love Lara, and you know you've always loved Lara, but you don't know if you'd have been able to understand that if none of this had ever happened. For a moment, you want to go back to where it all began in that dorm room when you'd first met her, just to ask yourself if you'd ever predict falling in love with your best friend. Lara looks at you, and from her gaze, you can tell she's thinking the same thing.

"Yes," you conclude with a subtle nod, leaning back down to kiss her again, "it wouldn't matter if it happened when we were bat-shit crazy in a geriatric ward, we'd still end up together. There's no way that I could go my entire life without realizing that the best part of it is right in front of me." Lara sniffles at your words as you nod. You break your mouth away from hers as you stare down at her with a serious glance.

"I love you, Lara," you tell her a soft voice as you kiss her again, "and I will always love you. The things you make me feel. The emotions, the physicality of it - _everything_ \- I will never feel it with anyone else. Call me young and naive, but I know you're it for me, Lara. You've always been it. I've just been too dumb to see it." You confess your feelings to her, laying your heart on your sleeve for her to see. Lara cries softly at your honest words as you lean down and press your lips to hers. Lara responds passionately, stifling a moan as your tongue probes the cavern of her mouth, filling the void with your love for her. You grind your hips down upon her crotch again, but this time, Lara takes note.

"Sam," she breathes as her hips buck up involuntarily. You can't help but smile into her mouth as you realize that despite all the hardship and adversity you've been facing, you've still got it. Heat rises from below Lara's belt, and you feel it everywhere. Lara's whimpering and shivering beneath you anxiously, her hands fumbling with your tank top. She seems unsure of what to do, but you reach back with one hand and lightly grip her wrists.

Lara watches you with a dark expression as you slowly draw her hands under your shirt. You let out a faint gasp the minute she touches you. Her palms are a bit clammy, but you don't mind. Her skin is cool against yours as you stroke the back of her hand with your deft fingertips. She mimics your motions into your skin, leaving you a gasping mess. Lara's eyes darken and her cheeks turn another shade of red as you grip her wrists tighter in approval. You feel her hands skirting up further, but before they can reach the undersides of your breasts, you let out a gasp. Lara pauses in her movements, worried. You feel those men again and you involuntarily growl out of reflex, alarming Lara slightly. You shake your head at her as you close your eyes. Lara's hands stay frozen, but you still feel _them_.

_My Queen_, Mathias hisses in your ear, _I will treat you properly._

"Dammit," you snarl as you fall forward, catching yourself just above Lara's body. Your fingers clench the sheets painfully as Lara's hands withdraw from beneath your shirt, only to wrap around your back again with a protective grip.

"Sam…," Lara sounds so disquieted, but you shake your head, releasing your fingers on the crumpled sheets as you let your body relax upon Lara's frame. Her hands stroke soothing circles in the small gap between your shoulder blades as you whimper again, holding back tears. Lara's muscles tense from under you as she holds you closer to her. You duck your head into her neck, crying again.

"Sam," Lara says again, the rubbing stopping abruptly, "what happened?"

You were praying she wouldn't ask you, but you're still not ready to explain the events of the island to her. You're not ready for the reaction that will ensue once you let her know of how they had touched you, taken you, beaten you, _humiliated_ you in those dark caves. You can't even say the word out loud to yourself, let alone to your concerned girlfriend. Lara's breath catches in her throat as you begin to cry again. You shake your head quickly, placing your hands upon her shoulders, being mindful of her bandages and wounds once more as you sigh.

"Nothing, Lara," you lie, feeling guilty as you do so, "it's just too… _fast_ for me."

"Sorry," Lara mumbles against your cheek as she sighs deeply. You feel a pang of remorse stab at your heart as you feel Lara's shoulders square and tighten beneath you. She's blaming herself for your inability to commit when it's not even her fault. _Way to go, Sammie_, you scold yourself, _push away the one person you love the most because you can't get over a stupid fucking memory_.

_Memories_, you correct yourself, several_ fucking memories_.

"I'm not the best at this, am I?" Lara coughs out awkwardly, her tone light with a self-condescending jest. You sigh into her neck as she winds her arms around you tighter, smothering you in her unconditional love. She pecks your forehead and then your nose lovingly as she throws you a soft smile.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she murmurs gently, "I… I've just… I… I've never really done this before," Lara stumbles on her words as she bows her head, ashamed. You press your lips to her crown, closing your eyes as you breathe in her scent. She chuckles half-heartedly as her hands resume their position of rubbing soothing circles upon your back. You kiss her neck softly, before trailing your pecks up her jaw before you plant a soft kiss to her mouth.

"Don't feel bad," you tell her sternly, the remorse evident in your voice. Lara's left brow raises questioningly as you gaze at her with a distant expression. You kiss her mouth softly again as you pull away from her. Her hands stay planted at your sides as she sighs.

"Don't ever apologize either, Lara," you mumble gently, leaning back down for one final kiss. It's soft and passionate but slow and gentle in the same. You let your lips press together for awhile, simply lingering in the subtle taste of each other. Lara's the one who breaks it first, softly letting a breath patter against your mouth. You don't open your eyes yet, not wanting to break free of this moment. You feel your heart sink as Lara's nose brushes against yours.

"I love you, Sam," Lara breathes softly, her bottom lip grazing your mouth as her hands trace down your neck and to your arms. Her hands find yours, and you collapse against her again.

Lara's fingers are tightly intertwined with yours as she kisses your ear. She goes to move you off her, but you squeeze her hand tightly, opening your eyes. You take a deep, shuddering breath, cocking your head upwards to stare at her with a hazy expression. She gives you a questioning glance, but you shake your head at her, leaning forward to kiss her cheek gently, before laying your head back on her shoulder. Lara smiles that famous lopsided grin as she pulls you closer.

"Please, I just want to lay here with you," you tell her softly, "just for a moment longer." Lara doesn't respond with words and instead, she pulls you flush to your side as she kisses your forehead. She nods slowly, rubbing your cheek with her soft nose.

"We don't have to go anywhere, sweetheart," she tells you.

/

Eventually, you both have to get up because nature calls.

Most of the time you had spent laying there with Lara involved silence, mixed in with the occasional kisses and cuddles. You never used to be one for cuddling, even if it was after sex. You craved physical attraction in the form of sexual activity, but not anything beyond that. Was cuddling considering beyond, though? You would think that it wouldn't be as intimate as sex, but as you laid there, curled up and vulnerable in Lara's strong arms, you couldn't help but feel the opposite. Lara made you feel things that you didn't know you were possible of feeling.

When Lara steps out of the bathroom with a goofy grin on her face, you can't help but stare at her with a loving smirk. She and you giggle as you try to move past her for the bathroom. Your awkward shuffle leaves Lara pressing you with a soft and childish kiss to your lips before she heads off to make some tea in the kitchen. You shake your head at her, but you're beaming. Man, you've really fallen head over heels for her, and there's no stopping you now from turning back. It's almost like skydiving; Lara gives you basically the same feeling in your stomach, but it's all the time. You always get super anxious, a good kind of anxious, whenever you're around her.

You take a shower because God knows you need it. You feel two weeks worth of stress soak into the drain, leaving you refreshed and free for the first time in a long time. You towel off and change before you join Lara in the kitchen, where she's sitting with her laptop and her glasses situated upon the frame of her nose. You kiss the top of her head as you pass her on the way to grab a cup of coffee. You usually prefer tea in the mornings, but you've been tired for a long time and need the additional caffeine boost if you're going to get through the day. Lara is squinting at her laptop, absently running her finger over the rim of her teacup as she reads.

"What are you looking at, babe?" You ask her as you pour the cream and sugar in your mug. You stir it all around before you take a tentative sip. You put the materials away before you walk over and seat yourself beside your girlfriend. Lara doesn't look at you as she bites her lip. Her stroking upon her cup stops, and her body simply freezes.

"You remember those artifacts we found on Yamatai?" She asks softly, looking over at you with a sheepish glance. You furrow your brows as she brings up that awful place.

"Yeah, what about them? I thought you said that you had Reyes take them to the Smithsonian," you say, standing up so that you can look over her shoulder at the news article before her.

You read the headline and something in your stomach flips.

"Stolen?" You gasp, setting your coffee mug down. "How were they stolen before they got there?!" Lara shakes her head as she scrolls down the pictures of the wrecked cargo ship, emptied from the relics that used to be inside it.

"Looks like someone wanted them," Lara mutters, biting her lip, "but why?" You peer at the screen, the lump in your gut growing exponentially.

"Those artifacts, Sam," Lara says in disbelief, "some of them… dammit, they could be cursed or something. If the wrong people get them…" Lara doesn't get the chance to finish her statement as she stops completely. Her eyes glue themselves to the page on the screen as she gulps. You feel something stir in your bones, and soon a lingering whisper from a long-dead demigod clouds your mind. Fear wraps around your body, strangling you as you stare at the picture of the man on the screen. You read the caption over and over again, trying to shake the coldness from your bones. Lara's spare hand clenches into the table, but you can feel fear radiating off her, too.

_Last reported viewing of Yamatai artifacts were made by "Whitman's World" producer, Allistair Roy Brown, CEO of Brown Corporations, while visiting Osaka, Japan to confirm the death of Archaeologist and TV show host, James Whitman. _

"Lara," you say with dead tone, "I think they already _have_."

Lara's palm suddenly smacks flat against the table, making you jump slightly from the startling noise. Anger and fear mix together as Lara struggles to figure out the situation laid out before her. She's shocked and frustrated, but scared in the same. You thought that you'd seen the last of Whitman, but maybe you were wrong this entire time. Maybe Whitman wasn't the real problem. You remember him talking about how his show had been failing. You remember how anxious he'd been, how feeble and mousy he'd acted as he walked about the ship, as if his life was precariously balanced on a single needle; you remember how desperate he'd been for footage, something, anything to keep his show afloat. You gulp nervously as you reread the caption over and over again.

_Businesses run like a game of chess_, your father had once told you when you did an internship one summer at his company, _there's the pawns, the queens, and the kings. You'll sacrifice who you must, but in the end, all that matters is that one piece. The others are negligible. Everything but the king, Sam, is _negligible_. They don't call it a dog eat dog world for nothing, my darling. People will do whatever they can to win. It doesn't matter what, or who, it costs._

"Risky," you mutter under your breath as you sigh, "it was too risky to send in the king, so he sent the pawn, that bastard." Lara looks at you with a puzzled glance, but you shake your head at her.

"Whitman was a _pawn_, Lara," you say bitterly, almost feeling sorry for the man, "he was only there to get what Brown needed. Allistair owns Brown Corporations, a multi-media business specializing in technological advancements. It's usually to do with the media or film, but they dabble in other stocks and opportunities, too. They're the biggest competitor against Dad's company." You remember how angry your father had been for going on the expedition with Whitman there, but when you convinced him that you'd make sure half the proceeds went to him, he still was reluctant on letting you go. You shake your head at yourself, wishing you'd had listened to him.

"What does that have to do with this, though? Doesn't your dad work in media?" Lara asks, still confused as she turns her gaze back to the computer. You swallow thickly as you reach over her, quickly typing the name of the business into the search engine. You pull up the analysis report of their spending, and soon, Lara understands that this situation is a whole lot more severe than she'd originally thought it to have been.

"_Military_?!" She asks, aghast. You nod, trying to calm the churning in your gut as you stare at the screen. You point to the estimated percentage of money that goes to that particular investment.

"They're big buyers, what with all of these new opportunities for unmanned, radio and satellite controlled machines. Brown works with the Foster-Miller company, the same guys who made that UGV robot, _Talon_. They work well with bomb diffusions," you tell her before you pause and hang your head, "… or remote detonations. Unmanned ground vehicles are the safer alternative. Tech for that kind of stuff is peak material, Lara. They _ensure_ that it's safer."

"Safer?" Lara echoes, looking back at the screen, "but at what cost?"

"Lara, this is bad," you tell her, pulling away to pace in the small space of the kitchen. Lara remains silent as she thinks. You run your calculations, thinking about what the odds are of Allistair using the artifacts to construct something so devastating and powerful that it could destroy an entire continent. Lara still hasn't spoken and so you stop pacing.

"Lara?" You ask her, raising a brow. Lara's almost the first to offer rational solutions, but for the first time, she looks stuck. She takes a deep breath and gives you a pained look.

"I have to go," Lara says, quickly tearing her eyes away from you, "I have to go and find out what his plans are, and if he has those artifacts, Sam. If they manage to unlock whatever power is hidden behind those relics, we could be facing more than just a domestic crises, but a global, fucking _international_, threat."

"I'm coming with you, then," you say stubbornly. There's no way in hell you're letting Lara go, not after everything you've been through. Lara looks to you sadly, shaking her head.

"Sam, this is something outside you," she tries to plead, "you can't do this, sweetheart. I won't let you. It's too dangerous." You cross your arms and try not to let the comment affect you, but it still hits you like a punch to the gut.

Lara thinks you're _weak_.

"Lara, you're not a fucking military officer, nor are you trained to deal with this," you tell her sternly, ignoring her doubt in you and letting her know that you're not taking no for an answer. "You are barely healed from Yamatai, and you're nowhere near ready to tackle this, especially on your own. If you are going to do this, you're going to need a partner."

"Sam, please," Lara tries to interject, but you shake your head. "No, Lara, you don't understand, you _can't_ do this alone. I… I'm not losing you again, okay?" You fight her words with your own. The sentence rolls of your tongue with heated syllables. Lara furrows her brows in frustration, but you don't let up on her. You take her hand and squeeze it tightly.

"We _both_ got through Yamatai, Lara," you tell her, even though you know that both of you are still so scarred from the dreadful place. _Honestly_, you think to yourself, _maybe some closure would be the answer to our problems_. You mull it over while Lara stares at you with a serious expression.

"Sam-"

"No, Lara," you interrupt sternly, "if this is going down, we're doing it together. We can get through this. We are going to stop them, _together_. No exceptions."

"Sam, no." Lara goes to stand, but you put a hand on her shoulder and sit beside her. You reach again for her hand, grasping it tightly in your own. It's a shaky grip, but you fight through your nerves and nod at her with the most convincing expression you can give. You run through another set of calculations until you stumble upon a tactic that could blow up in your face. You don't care. If you're going to go down, you'll go down kicking and screaming.

"Lara, we're a team," you say strongly, giving her another nod, "we do this together. You made me a promise, now fucking keep it. Crofts don't make promises they can't keep, right?" Lara bites the inside of her cheek as you quote her words. Your eyes stare into hers with a steady gaze. For a moment, you are in a standoff, with neither of you making a move. She's silent and still looks like she's going to challenge you, but she knows you better than anyone. You won't go down without a fucking war, and neither of you have time to deal with that.

"Fine," she sighs reluctantly, "I'll book us two tickets to Washington."


	6. Less Like Me: Lara

**A/N: This chapter is rated M for MATURE because of the dream sequence at the start. If you have triggers towards gore or violence, skip to the part where the italics stop. **Hey guys! So sorry the update took so long. I've been extremely busy with my finals and such, so I've been MIA with this story. I've got the plot figured out, and I'm estimating that this story is going to be a long one (might split it up into different parts). It's gonna be angsty, dark, suspenseful, and have lots of action and romance (and maybe a few tears and laughs). Anyways, a HUGE shoutout to all of you that review and follow this story. You guys are awesome. Let me know what you're thinking so far. Also a side note, I haven't read the comics, so I don't know if Alex's sister is younger or older than him. In this story, I've set her as older than him, just because it's convenient. Hope this isn't too terrible! Anyways, enjoy! :)

* * *

**Washington D.C, The United States of America**

_You're running again._

_It's always the same situation. You run but you cannot hide. The darkness wraps around you like a cold blanket as the ground begins to quake beneath your feet. The whispers are jumbled in your mind as you frantically lose control of your body. Your lungs tighten around the wall of your chest and you cannot breathe. Each huff of air is a dagger to your burning chest, but you somehow find pleasure in your pain. The ground shakes harder beneath your feet as you scream silently into the abyss._

Lara_, the familiar voice inside your mind calls out amongst the chaos, _I'm so sorry.

_You thrash as you feel something wind around your arms. You look down to see long, white arms curling around your body. They coil around your frame like an octopus would with its prey; the limbs are squeezing you so hard that your bones pop from the intense pressure. Blood gushes from every crack in your skin with the force of a waterfall, but you don't feel an inch of it. You're so numb to the feeling of dying that you're not even certain if you're alive anymore. You scream as nails rake down your sides, exposing the fat and muscle of your flesh. _

Lara._ It's right beside you now, flickering in your ears like a candle in the wind. _Lara…

_You see a bright flash of white light and there she is, as always. Sam's tied to the post again, struggling to rip free as she lets out muffled screams of agony. You try to tear yourself from the grip around your body, but you're stuck. You scream, your throat pained and raw from the noise. You taste iron in the back of your mouth as Himiko approaches Sam, a wicked grin plastered to her face. You already know how it's going to end, but you can't tear your eyes away. The fire starts at Sam's feet and she's looking at you. That face, that expression of stolen innocence and infinite remorse, _that_ is what gets you. You feel your own body begin to crumple and burn up as you watch Himiko draw closer._

_From behind her, you see Alex and Grim approach in the shadows. You don't even know if it's them, though, because they're so dismembered. Alex's face is a mash of charred flesh and bone. His entire left cheek is decimated, and he's missing his right eye. Blood pours over his skin as he gives you that same knowing smile he gave you before he took his life and gave you yours. You turn to see Grim, bones poking through his frame at awkward angles. His jaw is torn clean off, but he still looks like he's smirking at you, too. You gasp at the sight of their mangled bodies, your lungs filling with blood as you inhale. When you look back to Himiko, you are shocked to see that it's not _her_ standing in front of Sam._

_It's Roth._

_He's got the same facial expression he had when he'd died in your arms. You cry out violently, a sudden force of sadness enveloping around your heart. You cry so hard, so painfully loud that you're surprised you haven't deafened yourself. Rivulets of tears roll down what's left of your burned cheeks as Roth turns to Sam, who is staring at you with that faint, glossy expression. Roth extends his hand and grazes her cheek. He nods to her reassuringly, as if he is going to free her from her constraints and all of you will walk back completely fine. Roth pulls away his hand slowly before looking back to you with a sorrowful expression._

Sacrifice is a choice _you_ make, Lara, _he tells you softly, _loss is a choice made _for_ you_._

_You remember those words clearly. You remember how angry, how naive you'd been when you told him of how you were going to save the co-pilot. You remember how you'd thought of him as an ignorant old man who didn't understand what it meant. You stare at him, his bloodied face ashen with regret, and only _now_ do you understand just how wise he is. You scream again, crying out painfully as you flashback to when the axe had wedged deep into his back. He had his arms so tightly wound around you, and even though you knew he was dying, it had been the first time you'd felt safe on that retched island. _

_You can barely see through your blurred vision as the flames around Sam's feet grow higher. The hot embers nick at the exposed skin on her legs as your girlfriend yells for you. With a bloodcurdling wail, you turn back to Roth, only to watch as his skin peels away to reveal Mathias underneath the layers. The delirious cult leader gives you a wicked grin before he takes his spear into his hand. Alex and Grim watch on silently as Mathias steps closer to Sam._

The Sun Queen is immortal, creature_, he tells you with a smirk, narrowing his eyes at Sam, _she cannot, and will not, die. Long live the Queen. Long live the Solarii. Long live Yamatai!_ He draws up his spear and Sam shakes her head, unable to move against her bonds. Her legs are now charred to the bone, the mangled flesh hanging off as she struggles to move. Mathias smiles at you once more before he turns to Sam, pulling back the spear._

_With a massive lurch, he plunges the sharp end right through Sam's chest. _

_Bluish white light explodes from around you and a sharp, high pitched shrill fills the air. You feel your eardrums pop with the high decibels floating through the atmosphere. You scream out for Sam as you watch her entire body light up in white flames. Cracks form in her skin and she begins to tear apart. Mathias is laughing and chanting something in Japanese, but you can only focus on Sam as her body tears itself apart. You watch as her mouth parts wide enough for her jaw to snap in half. The scream of agony that leaves her throat causes your ears to bleed. Her collarbones sheer inwards through her skin, causing her shoulder blades to concave into her chest, impaling her lungs. She's crumpling, imploding, turning into a massive heap of flesh and bone, and you can't stop it. You are powerless to help her. You just watch as the dishevelled remainder of Sam's body fizzes in the flames. From the ashes, you see the witch rise, skin made of ivory porcelain. Her fiery amber eyes bear into yours as she cackles wildly. _

_The Sun Queen has risen once again._

Lara_, the whisper returns with remorse and sorrow, _I'm so sorry.

_There's a loud explosion, and soon all you can hear is faint repetitions of your name in the dark._

"Lara!"

You jolt upwards, but something resists upon your stomach. You gasp loudly and grimace, curling your arm around your still healing puncture wound. It takes a moment for you to orient yourself before you realize that you've got a belt around your waist. You look around frantically, your mind and eyes trying to adjust to the environment. The faint beeping sound is fuzzy and muffled, but you finally make out seats, faint light from the window beside you, and a comforting hand rubbing circles into the clothed skin of your shoulder through your blurred vision. You cock your head to look at the source, only to see Sam's haggard and frail face staring come into focus. Your laboured breathing tapers off and returns to normal as your muscles relax. You slump back against the seats and wipe your face shakily.

"Even on the plane?" Sam asks quietly, mainly to herself. You nod anyways, looking to the window. You suck in a deep breath and fall silent. You feel all sorts of shame and embarrassment running through you. _Nightmares on a plane? A new low,_ you scoff with bitter condescension. Sam squeezes your thigh as you turn away from her. You sit in silence for a while. You hear someone clearing their throat, and so you turn your gaze back over to Sam… and an air stewardess.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" The woman's tone of voice is friendly, but you make out roots of concern with her question. You swallow nervously, wringing your hands together.

"Y-Yeah," you stutter, your mouth and throat dry from screaming presumably. You grind your teeth shut in embarrassment as you see a few of the passengers in the rows beside you throwing you strange looks. Your cheeks flush as you can practically hear their judgemental whispers in your head.

_Must be one of them mental patients._ A man turns his head whisper with his wife.

_Why does _she_ have to sit with us in first class?_ A woman across the row glares at you.

_Where did she get all those scars?_ A teenaged boy looks up from his phone, cocking his head as his eyes roam over your body.

_Freak_, another mutters. collectively the quiet hushes grow louder in your mind. More people are staring. Their eyes glare into your very soul. You break out in a cold sweat out of panic. You fumble in your seat as the murmurs grow louder, even though their mouthes aren't moving. They're staring at you, eyes glued to yours in chilling stares, but they're not speaking to you.

Oh God, why aren't their mouthes moving?

_Lunatic_.

_Insane_.

_Foreigner_.

_Please_, you beg to yourself as you close your eyes. You place your hand on the back of your head and curl your face into your knees. They're getting louder but they're not physically saying anything. Sam is rubbing your back, but her touch feels like a million tiny spiders crawling across your skin. You half expect to feel a sting of one of the dreadful bugs biting you. You want the poison to seep into your system and rid you of the sickness in your brain. Sam's voice is growing distant now. You fight to just _breathe_ as panic courses through your veins in throbbing aches. The insults mesh together until they all join into one cohesive word that sends shivers down your spine.

_Outsider._

You stop immediately. Your stomach contorts as the words start to disorient themselves. You feel like you've taken another rebar through your gut. You're hearing Russian now as your head snaps up assertively. You're looking for them with hasty turns of your head. Sam's looking at you worriedly, her hand squeezing your thigh. Her eyes stare into yours just as everyone else's had done before. Her mouth moves and you make out the words she says.

_Kill the outsider._

You shake your head and turn away out of fear, letting loose a hushed cry. You shut your eyes and hear the words repeat in your head. You're there again, back on Yamatai. The floor rumbles beneath your feet and a beeping noise sounds from above your head. You let out a faint sob as you blink open your eyes to look outside the window, your eyes deceiving you as you make out horrid grey and black clouds looming towards you. You can hear the thundering blades of the helicopter as you fight to land the craft. Roth is beside you, screaming at you to hold onto something. You clench the seat rest powerfully, listening to his words as they rush through your mind. The belt around your waist is getting closer, tighter. Air is constricting from your lungs and you're on fire. The sensation is none too dissimilar than to the one when you'd been first tied up in the scavenger's den. You remove your hand from the rest and claw at your seatbelt. You need to get free, you're going to die if they don't land this aircraft. Don't they know that? They're going to die! Sam's saying something to you, but you can only hear the pursing whispers growing louder.

_Kill the outsider_, they chant coldly, _before she kills us all_.

You need to get off the plane. You fumble with your belt again, your fingers slipping from sweat and nerves as the memory washes over you completely. You growl as you can't seem to undo the metal clasp. You grip it harder, trying to rip it apart. Sam is clutching your shoulder tighter now, her blunt nails pressing painfully into a lingering bruise. You shake your head at her, unable to hear her soft words in your ear. You can only hear Russian words, screaming, and _him_. You close your eyes and you see Alex, Grim, and Roth staring back at you with empty gazes. All of them purse their lips in synchronization to utter one final word in a single, chilling voice.

_Murderer_.

"Ma'am!" A sharp voice causes you to blink your eyes open. You tear your gaze away from your scratched belt buckle to stare at the worried air stewardess. Your chest heaves as you regain your composure. You take in another deep breath and reluctantly release your fingers from the scored buckle.

"I'm sorry," she says, shifting on the balls of her feet as she swallows, "but you're disturbing the other passengers, ma'am," the air stewardess says, though her voice doesn't contain any form of annoyance, just fear. You can't look at her as you bite your lip, fighting back tears. Sam's talking to her for you, telling her some bullshit excuse of how you're a nervous flyer and that this is hard for you. It's hard for you, yeah, but _not_ because you're a nervous fucking flyer.

It's because you're going _fucking_ insane.

"I know who you are, Ms Nishimura," the stewardess says, snapping your attention back to her. You shoot her a cold expression and she gulps. "A-And _everyone_ knows who you are, Ms Croft. It… it… well, it makes some of the other people on board a little… _uncomfortable_."

"Uncomfortable?" Sam butts in for you. Her hand squeezes your knee as she silently tells you to keep quiet. You clench your jaw as hot flames of anger prick at your already agitated stomach. Sam glares at the woman with frustration.

"I'm sorry, _Jackie_," Sam practically snarls her name as she looks to her name tag, "but if you know who we are, then you'd understand why this situation is so difficult for us. Why don't you just leave us alone?" The air stewardess shivers at the icy tone of voice Sam uses, but she quickly nods her head, retreating back down the isle and to another passenger five rows away. Sam scowls at her back with a serious glare.

"What a stuck up little bitch," Sam hisses under her breath, shaking her head. She sighs deeply before she turns to face you, her face now gone from frustrated to caring and concerned. She lets up on the grip that encases your shaking leg, instead receding to making soft strokes with her deft fingertips that help ease your incessant trembling.

"You okay, babe?" She asks you gently, rubbing your leg. You close your eyes, relieved to just see darkness for once, and nod your head softly. You mutter a quiet apology as you curl into the seat, wishing for it to absorb you. Sam sighs and leans her head back agains the rest. She looks up at seat belt sign atop your heads with an distant glance.

"We're not ready for this, Lara," Sam's voice is barely audible as she speaks. She doesn't look at you when you turn your head to face her. Sam's hands are shaking as she curls them over her own stomach. You watch as tears burn at her dark eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"Sam…," you breathe out, your voice aching and scratchy. You swallow thickly as you look back at the LCD display of the map in front of you. You're due to land in an hour from now. You look back out the window to see that the storms have disappeared, replaced by streaming sunlight.

"Lara," Sam says your name through gritted teeth. She finally musters up the courage to turn and face you as she sucks in a sharp, hesitant breath. "_You're_ not ready for this."

"It doesn't matter," you tell her, waving her off subtly. The expression in her eyes turns from concerned to hurt as you flinch. You hate that you keep pushing her away like this, especially when you aren't doing it intentionally. Maybe Sam's right, maybe Yamatai has changed you.

Maybe you _aren't_ ready.

"We have to figure out what Allistair Brown wants with those artifacts," you tell her bluntly, avoiding her statement. Sam bites the soft flesh inside her cheek in frustration as you refuse to acknowledge her concern. In the back of your mind, you know it's because she's right.

Sam is about to say another thing when suddenly the PA system sounds overhead. The captain speaks gently into the microphone, letting the passengers know that they should be starting the descent into the capital city soon. You tense your shoulders as you try to figure out your game plan. You know that Allistair has connections, and confronting him head on would be stupid. You have to find a way to get inside the corporation and find out if they have the relics.

Reyes said that she would pick you up at the airport, and drive you back to the small cabin she once owned and is currently renting out to you. The funerals of the three men that had been lost on Yamatai would be held in a few days, and you were still on the fence if you could even show your face. You think about how they had died, and you can't help but feel guilt eat away at the inner lining of your stomach. You'd be showing disrespect by _not_ going. Alex's mother in particular, had called you with an invitation, but she sounded none too pleased to have learned that you'd survived but her youngest child, and only son, had not.

_They _could've_ survived_, you think bitterly, _if it hadn't been for you_.

/

The flight arrived and landed on time, without a single problem. There was some turbulence near the tail end of the landing, but it was nothing compared to the helicopter crash you'd endured. You're currently waiting at the baggage claim while Sam is in the bathroom. You've got the hood of your dark green jacket propped up to cover your face and your arms are wrapped around your shoulders, even though it's not that cold inside the airport. You shiver anyways, trying to avoid looking at anyone in the fear of hearing those whispers rush through your mind again.

You think back to your dreams, and to what Sam and said earlier. There hasn't been a single night in which you haven't been plagued by your terrors. You've convinced yourself that they've become a part of you, and that no matter what you do, they won't go away. You've read reports on soldiers and sole survivors with PTSD. But you're not a soldier, nor are you a sole survivor. You grip your arms tighter as you think about those three men again, and how stupid you'd been. If you had kept the pressure on those men in the skyway, you could have saved Grim. If you could have just mustered up enough strength, you could've helped Roth take down those soldiers. If you had just gone to the camp with everyone else after burning your mentor's body, Alex wouldn't have gotten trapped.

If you would have just bit back your curiosity, _no one_ would have died.

"Excuse me?"

You swallow thickly and turn to the side at the sound of a soft, childish voice. You look down to see a small boy, about six or seven, staring back at you with wide blue eyes. A wide smile runs from cheek to cheek as he looks up and down at you. He sees your face and he grins, pointing up at you. You take a defensive step backwards, but he doesn't read your gesture with his childish innocence. He smiles harder, extending his hand to show you a piece of paper and a pen.

"You're the one! You're the Tomb Raider!" He exclaims in a loud voice, drawing attention you've been trying to avoid. People are starting to look at you now. You gulp nervously and shake your head, pushing his hand away slightly.

"I-I'm afraid you've got the wrong person," you tell him as gently as you can. The boy shakes his head as he points to your neck, where the jade necklace Sam had bought you for your nineteenth birthday hangs delicately. Your fingers touch the cool stone softly, _protectively_ almost. Upon seeing your defensive action, the boy nods his head again as he jumps on his feet, unable to contain his excitement.

"It _is_ you! I knew I was right. Jake would never believe this. Man, this is so cool! You're _the_ Tomb Raider! You're the one who fought all those bad guys on that island and rescued the flower girl! You're a superhero! Can I get an autograph? Is the flower girl here, too? I want to meet her! She's _so_ pretty!" The boy beams up at you as he bombards you with questions, waving his paper and pen at you. You hear the whispers in your head, but they're not telling you that you're a _superhero_. Your eyes shift up to glance around hastily. You notice the eyes of several different people now staring at you.

"I-I…," you stutter nervously, feeling anxiety shoot through you, "I-I'm not… I didn't…"

"Tommy? Tommy, what are you doing?" A feminine voice calls out. The boy rolls his eyes as he turns his back on you to face the middle-aged woman rushing up to him. She recognizes you instantly and she quickly places her hands on the boy's small shoulders, fear laden in her eyes. She steps beside him defensively, squaring her shoulders.

"Tom, how many times have I told you _not_ to talk to strangers?" She asks sternly, tugging on him while maintaining fierce eye-contact with you. The protective glint in her ice blue eyes stirs something in you, and for some reason, you find yourself growling subtly, like a feral animal. _Like a wolf_, you mutter to yourself, _you're growling like wolves back on Yamatai_. Your fingers curl into fists as she pulls again at the boy's arms, trying to get him away from you, like you're the devil incarnate or some sort of monster.

Isn't that what you are, though? A monster?

"But, _Mom_!" Tom whines, shoving her hands off his shoulders, "she's the _Tomb Raider_! You know, the woman from the TV!" The woman snarls at you as she moves her son behind her legs, much to his dismay.

"Oh, I know exactly who _she_ is," she spits cruelly, eyes flaring as she glares at you. You remain silent as you jerk your head up, reflexively asserting your dominance. The woman doesn't shrivel as she pushes Tom back, shaking her head at you. You growl again, taking a step closer to her. You pull your lips back into a cold snarl, but before you can say anything, a hand clasps around your forearm. Sam is standing beside you, a concerned expression laid out on her face.

"Lara, is everything alright?" She asks, looking to the woman shooting daggers at you. She goes to ask her a question, but Tom interrupts before Sam can even open her mouth.

"It's the flower girl!" The boy cries out, turning his gaze to Sam. He looks as though he's in the middle of a candy shop as he tries to shove his pen and paper over to her instead. Sam looks confused for a moment, but the boy quickly points to his items. Before she can answer, the woman places her hand on Tom's shoulder with more of a warning for him to stop talking. You clench your muscles under Sam's tightening grip, and for some reason, the only thing you want to do is tear the throat out of the woman in front of you. You suddenly realize that want isn't a good enough word to describe it, though.

It's more like you _crave_ the thought of ripping her to shreds.

"Everything is fine," the woman says sternly, her defensive stature shrivelling under the new, _lethal_ glare you are sending her. She looks to your twitching fingers and subtly gulps in fear. The boy again protests for an autograph but his mother shakes her head and forcefully drags him away. People are still staring, but once they look at your stance, they don't dare to look your way. Sam senses the tension and squeezes your arm again, drawing you out of your trance. You take a deep breath and relax your muscles slightly.

"What was that all about?" Sam asks softly, bringing you back to the luggage carousel. The adrenalin has worn off and you're back in the real world. You begin to shake again as you press your body closer to hers. Keeping your stare glued to the ground, you subtly nudge your side against Sam, seeking her warmth and comfort.

"I can't explain," you mumble under your breath, "I-I don't know what happened, Sam. I-I d-don't know…" Your trembling voice is one of shame and guilt, though you did nothing wrong. You could have done something wrong, but that's not what scares you.

You _wanted_ to do it. You _wanted_ to kill her.

"I hear them, Sam," you admit softly, glancing back up at the people around you, "the men from the island, Mathias, Alex, Grim… Roth. I hear them and they can't leave me alone." You close your eyes and tuck your head into her neck. A few lone tears trickle from your sore eyes as you cry into her skin. Sam winds a protective arm around your shoulder, placing her other hand at your cheek as she kisses the top of your head.

"God, Sweetie," Sam murmurs in a pained tone. She doesn't have a response to what you're telling her, but how could she? What do you say to someone who's hearing things, seeing things - who's trapped in the past? You shake your head gently, swallowing thickly. You reach for her hand and intertwine your fingers. Sam sighs at the sensation as you gasp.

"Sam, I-I…," you stutter as you try find the words, "I'm think I'm becoming one of _them_."

/

Sam doesn't speak to you after that.

You're currently sitting in the back of Reyes' pick up, watching as the sun begins to bleed light across the blue sky. Forests and tress pass from the window, painting the world in various hues of green. Your insides curl and you pull your legs up to your chest in the small space, like a child would. Sam is quiet, too. Her eyes are glazed and staring ahead. Reyes obviously picks up on the tension, but doesn't question either of you. The ride is too quiet, and your mind begins swimming in that sickness again. It takes what feels like forever, but soon you arrive at the place you will be staying. The minute the car drones to a stop, you bust open the door.

"There's an old jeep in the shed, a little worn down but she'll get you from A to B, I'm certain," Reyes says as she steps out of the truck to help you with your baggage. You pull out the suitcases and reach for the small duffle bag in the corner. Sam raises her brow at the bag, but you don't pay attention to her surprised face.

"Uh, Lara, when did you bring that one?" She asks softly, but tentatively, like she already knows the answer. Reyes swallows thickly as you pause in your movements. You look to the ground before you sling it over your shoulder, the metal inside clinking faintly. The sound gives away the contents of the bag and Sam's eyes narrow in hurt and anger.

"Lara, tell me you didn't." Her voice is stern, seared with misunderstanding and frustration. You shake your head and glance at her with an empty expression. Sam's steady gaze doesn't waver as she crosses her arms.

"It's just my books and gear," you say, and it's not totally a lie because those _are_ in there. Sam shakes her head at you and waves her hand. She mutters something under her breath as she reaches for a suitcase and begins to bring it to the small cottage. It's located a good few miles out from the main city, and you can't help but be grateful for that. You never had a thing for large crowds of people, but now, it's so overwhelming it drives you insane.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing, Lara," Reyes says sternly, snapping you from your thoughts. You look at her blankly to see her raising her brow suggestively.

"You better not be trying anymore of that shit you pulled on the island," Reyes continues, and you feel that familiar rage burble deep inside of you. She stops you before you can hurl out an insult by prodding a strong finger into your chest. Though the touch is harsh, she is still mindful of your injuries as she stares at you with a knowing expression.

"I saw the news about the missing artifacts, Lara," she says in a softer voice as she dips her head, her gaze shifting from your desolate eyes to the pebbled gravel beneath her feet. "It's not worth it. It's not worth going after them, not after all that happened, after what we've lost… after _who_ we've lost."

"This isn't about loss," you say in a rough snap, expressionless as you pry her hand away from your chest, "this is about preventing any of that _shit_ from happening again. You don't understand how much of a danger those relics will be if they fall into the wrong hands." Reyes' head snaps up, angry with your sharp response.

"And you want to tell me that you do?!" She growls incredulously, crossing her arms. You make out the faint scar from her gunshot wound on her arm and you wince slightly. Reyes' expression doesn't soften but she, too, looks at your arm covered by the jacket, knowing you match her scar with one of your own.

"Yeah," you tell her as you both glance up to see Sam walking back towards you. Sam doesn't look at your eyes, but you can tell that she's furious with you. Reyes follows your gaze and sucks in a breath as you mutter, "yeah, Reyes, I _do_."

Finally, Sam reaches the both of you and Reyes falls silent, still mulling over what you had told her. She looks between you and your girlfriend as she bites her lip. Sam bows her head and grabs at the last suitcase, but doesn't turn to leave just yet. You don't have to hear her say the words to know that she's beyond hurt. You feel guilt wrack through your frame but you can't seem to find the courage to apologize to her. Maybe you'll find strength later when you're alone. Reyes sighs as she glances to the duffle bag slung over your shoulder.

"Don't do this and end up killing yourself, Lara," Reyes says strictly, though you can hear the care in her voice. She's looking to Sam and your girlfriend winces at the words. Your lips curl into the formation of a snarl because she upset Sam, but before you can tell her to sod off, Reyes gives Sam a sympathetic look, before shooting you a warning glance.

"Losing you was hard enough the first time," she says, looking back to Sam, "on _all of us_."

/

Sam is still quiet as you finish setting things up. Reyes had left the kitchen fully stocked and had some bedding and towels left at the place so that all you had to bring was your clothes, your gear, and a few… _other things_. You had set the duffle bag in the shed beside the cabin, but left one of your items in the bedroom, under the frame and away from Sam's sight. You feel terrible for having lied to her, but you can't help it. You have this intense need to have it with you, close to you, in case something happens.

If Sam knew what you planned on bringing, she would have gone off on you and probably left you. You look up at her now, cooking something at the kitchen. Your heart aches as you feel guilty for all the pain you've caused her thus far. She's been doing her absolute best to help you, despite almost failing at fighting her own dreadful battles, but you keep pushing her away. You desperately want to see the inside of her fragile mind, but you're already erring on the edge of safe, so you know it's better right now if you don't.

The thought kills you.

"What are you cooking?" You ask softly, trying to deter yourself away from the dark places it wishes to seek out. You take to placing your notebook and laptop on the dining table. You crack open the notepad and power on the laptop, but Sam doesn't respond to your question. You gulp, swallowing the pit growing exponentially in your stomach. You look at your reflection in the black screen of the computer, barely able to recognize the person staring back at you.

_Your eyes have changed_, Alex had told you when you finally reconvened with him on the island. He'd told you in the gentlest, most caring way possible when he solemnly said, _its like they're hollow, like you're not really in there anymore_. You stare at the beady little irises in the reflection and contemplate his words. Was he right? Did you lose yourself on Yamatai? Your fingertips hesitantly graze the black circles under your eyes from the constant insomnia that plagues you. You fight back the urge to cry as you realize that even though you're almost twenty-two, it feels like you're more than fifty. You shake your head and look away, turning your gaze to Sam's stiffened backside. Her hands have paused on the handle of whatever she was stirring.

"Sam?" You ask softly, getting up from your seat. Sam doesn't move or speak as you step closer to her. You're careful to make your footsteps light and soft in order to refrain from scaring her like you'd done a few days ago before you left for Washington. You get about two feet from her body when she finally opens her mouth and speaks.

"You're not one of them, Lara," she tells you quietly. You stop completely, looking at her face as her eyes stay glued to the broth bubbling inside the pot. You can't even acknowledge how good it smells because you're so distracted by the mournful vibes drifting off your girlfriend. Sam's grip on the ladle intensifies as you sigh.

"Sam," you begin to protest, but Sam whips around, her eyes lit with fury and sadness. You're taken aback by her expression as she reaches forward and grabs your shirt, clenching her fingers between the material and tugging hard so that your faces are inches apart. You can feel her hot breath on your lips coming out in ragged gasps.

"You are _not_ one of them, Lara!" Sam shouts at you, gripping you harder as tears begin to leak out of her eyes. Her grip grows shaky and she begins to weep harder. "You… you can't become one of them, Lara, not when you're all that I have left. I… I can't lose you to them."

"Sam-"

"I'll _die_ before that fucking happens, Lara," Sam spits at you, shaking your shoulders with fear and anger, "I don't care if it's _me_ putting the bullet in my head or _you_. I won't live a day on this planet if you turn into one of them, you hear me? I won't do it! I _can't _do it!"

"Sam, stop it!" You shout back, grabbing at one of her wrists, pulling her back to you. You wrap your strong arms around her and she screams in agony. Her free hand curls into a fist as it pounds upon your bruised chest. It acts like fuel to the fire swelling inside your lungs, but you fight back the pain and focus on the distressed state of your girlfriend.

"Sam," you coo softly into her ear, your hand rubbing circles into her back as she sobs harder, "I'm here, Sam. I'll fight, sweetheart. I won't let them win. I won't let them take us anymore."

"Promise me," Sam says in a blank voice. You stop your rubbing, your breathing, hell, you stop _everything_ at the sound of those pained words. You want to immediately say yes, yes you'll make her a promise, but you can't. You know you can't. Fuck, _Sam_ even knows you can't. She tenses up in your arms, shaking her head against your neck as she pulls herself away from you. In that moment, you lose your strength as you watch her turn her head away from you.

"That's what I thought," she says in a low, defeated voice. Her tone is one coated in remorse and sadness. She's not even angry, because she's only now understanding how fucked up you are and how much of a mess your mind currently is in. She doesn't look at you as she returns to the pot, her trembling hand reaching for the ladle as she stirs. Her walls have come up and this time, you know this is a cliff you won't be able to scale anytime soon.

"Sam…," you trail off to a whisper, but Sam isn't listening to you.

Closing your eyes and letting out a frustrated sigh, you reluctantly return back to your notes and computer. As you look to all your findings and documents, a tidal wave of different emotions all seep in at once. You don't look at Sam, because you know that she would be the catalyst that would undoubtedly send you over the edge. You wonder, as you stare at the faint scratches on your knuckles and forearms, _how_ exactly did your relationship dynamic switch so drastically? Just three days ago, you were snogging like some lovesick teenagers in the morning, but now, _now_ you're both falling apart at the seams. You backtrack, trying to think of how you came to be in this current predicament. You clench your fists together as the whispers come back, haunting you down to the very marrow of your bones.

_Dammit, Sam_, you think as you slam your eyes shut in an effort to block them out, _I should have listened to you._

/

That night, you both sleep side by side.

Not cuddling. Not spooning. Not even looking at each other for reassurance or comfort.

_Separate_.

It's like there's an invisible buffer beside you, preventing you from communicating or touching her. You don't know if that's what she even wants. You swallow thickly, looking up at the ceiling with a glazed expression. You want to touch her, to love her, to prove to her just how much she means to you and how in love you are with her. That's when it hits you. This entire time, through everything that ever happened, you've never said that to her. You glance over at her with a remorseful expression on your face, but Sam's eyes are distant and staring at the ceiling.

"I'm in love with you," you tell her softly, feeling nervous all of the sudden as you break the silent vigil you'd both been holding for hours now. Sam's breath hitches, but she doesn't say anything. You see tears glistening at the corners of her eyes but she refuses to let the dams break. You shift on your side, ignoring the dull ache that comes as a result. You take a deep breath and stare at her, even when she refuses to look at you.

"I'm in love with you, Sam," you choke out, your emotions getting the best of you. Sam doesn't respond again, and you hang your head in defeat. You've run out of moves. There's nothing else you can say that will bring her to you. You go to roll back onto your back, but before you can, you feel a soft palm upon your cheek. You blink your eyes open to see Sam staring at you, teary-eyed. Her expression is laced with hurt and it sucks the life out of you.

"_Don't_," she whispers, her voice cracking, "don't use that to get back at me." You watch as she narrows her eyes, which allows a few tears to drip down her cheeks. You have no response for her statement, as you're shocked that she'd suggest such a thing. Sam shakes her head, clutching your face tighter in her palms as she tugs upon your jaw.

"I know what you brought in that bag," she tells you in a low voice, her eyes a blazing amber in the pale light of the moon. "You promised me that you'd _stay_, Lara." The sentence cracks on the last word as she begins to cry. You wait for a moment before you reach up for her face with your own hands. Sam hesitates at first, but before you pull away, she sighs in submission. You gently cup her cheek, your thumbs brushing away those falling tears.

"I keep my promises, Sam. I told you that and I meant every word. I _always_ keep them," you breathe lightly, your eyes bearing into hers to assure her that you're confident. For a moment, your mind is at rest from the trauma, and all you see, hear, and feel is Sam. Your girlfriend gasps at your words, ducking her head as another cry parts her lips.

"What happens when you can't, Lara?" She asks, her voice muffled by your hand, "what happens when I wake up and you're not there anymore? Then what?" You swallow the lump in your throat as you pull on her cheek to make her face you once more. Sam stares at you with a needy gaze, her breaths coming out slowly and shallowly. You flicker your glance between her eyes and her lips, your mouth parting slightly as you make a decision. You lean in, waiting for Sam to push you away, but she doesn't move; she neither encourages nor rejects your intentions, so you close your eyes and hope that your actions speak louder than your words.

The kiss is soft, softer than you'd ever kissed her before. It's so fragile and tender, you feel like you're about to shatter at any given moment like you're a piece of china or an ancient relic. Sam lets loose a heart-wrenching sob into your mouth at the contact, but you stand strong, this time forcing yourself to become the mast that holds your sinking ship together. Sam reaches up and clutches onto you, throwing herself around your body like you're the last lifeline she has left. You wrap your arms around her and press your frames together as close as humanely possible. You kiss her harder, trying to breathe all the strength you have into her rapidly deteriorating body. Sam moans out of pure sorrow as she folds deeper into your arms, taking what she needs from you and stripping you bare. Her mouth parts, allowing your tongue to search the darkest, most troubled parts of her and fix them.

"I will be there," you breathe into her lips between heated kisses, "I will, Sam. You're all that I have that keeps me fighting, sweetheart. Everyday I wake up, I think about you. The only way I'll ever lose is if I no longer have you, and I can't, and _won't_, lose you. I love you, Sam. I'm in love with you. I always have been and I always will be, and that is a promise. It's a promise that I have no intention on _ever_ breaking, my darling. God, how I love you, Sam."

"Lara," Sam cries into your lips, her body shaking from her heartbreaking sobs. You coo soothingly into her ear as you cradle her body closer to yours protectively. Your chest swells again, but not from anger this time. No, this time, it's a sheer need to never desert her, to protect her, to keep her close to you and never let her go. You may need answers, but you need Sam more. If the world were to end tomorrow, you'd want it to end with Sam in your arms.

You both lay in silence for awhile, clutching each other tightly. There's no more kisses or words. Occasionally, you'll both stroke each other's hair or rub calming patterns into the other's exposed skin, but you remain silent otherwise. Sam's head is pushed deep into your chest, her nose brushing against your clavicle and her hands pushed up against your breastbone. You have your lips and nose in her slightly tangled hair. You're basically smothering her in your grasp as you breathe deeply, inhaling her familiar, comforting scent. You try to imagine a world without her, but just as quickly as you close your eyes to do so, you come to realize that a world without Sam is one in which you cannot exist. Sam is your lifeblood, your motivation, your everything, and as you look down at her now, her eyes tracing the scars around your neck, you realize that you're _everything_ to her.

"I'm sorry," you whisper after sometime, "for not thinking about you. For being selfish about all of this. About how we're feeling." Sam doesn't say anything, but she responds with a delicate kiss to your collarbones. You choke back a sob as you catch the fleeting broken expression in her eyes from your apology.

"I didn't think," you say, closing your eyes guiltily, "I didn't think about how this could affect you, too. I… I just… I don't know, Sam. Yamatai changed me, and I'm just so scared-"

"You _aren't_ one of them, Lara," Sam says, repeating the words from earlier. She tilts her head up to glance at you with a desolate, empty look. Her gaze is bone-chilling and her eyes are void of the happy-go-lucky Sam of with you grew up. There's so much raw pain in her those dark brown orbs you almost think that her tears are about to turn into sheer blood.

"Trust me," Sam whispers distantly as she looks away, "you're _not_ one of them."

"Sam?" You ask, noticing that her tone is giving away more than what she means. Sam shakes her head as she swallows thickly. Her hands reach for your jaw as she turns her face back to you. She doesn't look into your eyes as she leans over you to places a chaste kiss upon your lips.

"We should get some sleep," she murmurs absently into your lips. You part your mouth to protest, but Sam shakes her head. You realize that she doesn't want to talk about it, and so you decide to not push it, despite your aching concern. She's concealing something and you can't put a finger one what it is. You start thinking about your previous actions.

"It's not you, Lara," Sam says, reading your thoughts. You snap out of your self-interrogation as she gives you an empty smile. Her eyes remain guarded and distant as she leans back down, resting her head against your shoulder. You sigh deeply as you feel the comforter drape over your midsection. Sam snuggles deeper into your embrace, latching onto your body with a subtly possessive grip.

"Whatever happens with Brown, Lara," Sam murmurs tiredly, her mouth moving against your skin softly, "just make sure that whatever happens, you make it count, okay? Don't sacrifice something unless you absolutely must." The words cause you to stiffen. You choke back a sob as you hear Roth inside your mind, his voice as calm and steady as it had been in your dream.

_Sacrifice is a choice _you_ make, Lara._

You look back down at Sam, her eyes drooping slightly from fatigue, and your chest tightens. You take a deep breath and let a few tears roll down your cheeks at the thought of your mentor, your second father, and how he had tried to give you the biggest lesson of your life. You close your eyes and shake your head. _I'm so sorry, Roth_, you think as you fight the urge to completely break down in Sam's grasp, _I'm so sorry I let you down_. You feel pain and anguish rip through your frame as you think about Alex and Grim, of their sacrifices to allow you the chance to get away. You blink open your eyes and stare back down at Sam, now hazily staring up at you through tired eyes. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you hold her closer to you.

Would you do the same for her? Sacrifice your life?

"And Lara, one more thing," Sam yawns against your chest softly, interrupting your thoughts. You clench your jaw, holding back tears as you nod. You choke out a hoarse 'yeah?' in response. Sam sighs tiredly as she reaches for one of your hands under the covers, intertwining your fingers tightly before giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm in love with you, too."

The words drift into the air, leaving you stumped and transfixed on how much love and concern they had contained. They were only six words, but you feel like you've just read a novel. Sam's hand squeezes yours faintly once more, before slumber finally washes over her. You stare at her sleeping face for a few moments, pondering your question from awhile ago. You think again of Roth, of how his death had left you just as scarred as your parents' own. You think of what that would do to Sam if something were to happen to you. You think of what would happen to you if something were to happen to _her_. You shudder at the thought of it, and instantly you're reminded of the object sitting under your bed. You think for a few more moments as you close your mind. You think back to the island. You've already died once saving Sam. You let that ring out in your head a few times. Your breath catches in your throat as you know. There's not a single doubt in your mind as you come to a final, somber conclusion.

Yes, you would.


	7. Invisible Scars: Sam

**A/N: This chapter is rated M for MATURE because of previous mentions of rape/sexual abuse. **I've been thinking long and hard on whether or not to change the rating for this story, but I think I may make a decision in the next few chapters. I know that some of the stuff, such as the gore and violence depicted in the dream sequences and the descriptions of Sam's previous experiences, can be a little overwhelming for the rating, so I may have to change it. Anyways, please let me know what you think so far of this chapter! I really want to know what you're thinking, if it's realistic, if it's too repetitive - anything really. I hope you're all liking it and thanks for the support so far! Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Reyes' Cabin - Washington D.C, The United States of America**

You wake up to an empty bed.

When you blink open your eyes, you hear the soft pattering of rain outside the window. The sound and the sight send tingles through your arms and into your bones as you shiver. Though it's not nearly as bad as the relentless storms on Yamatai, you still can't help the pit of apprehension that grows like a festering parasite in your chest. You can feel it swimming inside you, pecking away at the lining of your lungs and constricting your breathing. You shut your eyes and focus on the sensation of the bed and of the silence to assure you that you are not there.

After having spent some time recuperating from pushing down the never-ending panic, you swallow thickly as you look to the indent on the sheets beside you. You stretch out your arm to feel warmth ebbing off from the soft linen, indicating that Lara had left not too long before you had awoken. Your senses start to adjust and you hear low muttering coming from the small living room. Drawing back the sheets, you shudder as cold air hits your bare skin. You close your eyes and suck in a deep breath as you haul your legs over the bed frame, allowing your bare toes to touch the cool hardwood floors. You quickly grab an oversized hoodie and pull it on before entering the living room.

Lara's sitting at the kitchen with her knees pulled up to her chest. She's got her laptop open and her notes sprawled across the table as she reads something on the screen. Because she doesn't have her glasses on, she's practically absorbed into the computer. Almost all the lights in the room are out; her only source of light in the darkness comes from the small LCD screen. She's muttering under her breath as she reads whatever is on the computer. You glance over her shoulder to see that it's a little past five in the morning. You know for certain that you must have fallen asleep _at least_ around three-thirty. You rub your eyes, still scratchy and sore from crying.

Lara looks just as bad. She's wearing nothing but her black camisole and her grey-striped boxer briefs. You make out the bandages, bruises, cuts, and scars that still line her body and you grimace. Her ribs poke through like coiled rungs against the thin material of her tank with every slowly expanding breath she takes. A few of the bandages on her legs are in need of a change, as they've become a bit murky and yellowed with discharge. She's not infected like she'd been in Japan a few weeks ago, but she's still healing. You have to remind yourself that in order to stay calm. Her hand is shakily holding a pen as she tries to scribble something down. You just stare at her, your girlfriend, the love of your fucking life, and your heart breaks as you realize how lost she's become.

"You know, I tried learning through osmosis back in university," you croak out in a humourless voice, causing Lara's head to snap up. She whirls her head around to face you, but her expression softens from her original guarding eyes. You cross your arms gently as you nod at her textbooks and notes. You lean against the frame of the door with your brow raised as you lightly joke, "it never really worked out all too well for me, but you already know that."

"Wasn't my fault if you procrastinated and partied," Lara quips back with a mocking tone, though her voice is pained. You sigh as you step into the room, taking a seat beside her.

"Well, we all can't be bookish like you, sweetheart," you tell her gently, nodding at her notes. Lara sighs as she grimaces at the sight of her notes, spread apart and disorientated. She doesn't work like this and it scares you. Lara Croft is not unorganized. She's meticulous and neat and starts studying a month in advance to her exam. She makes spreadsheets, colour-codes her notes, and rewrites them, once handwritten and the other typed. This isn't typical Lara.

This isn't _your_ Lara.

Lara turns back to her work, but you can tell that she's not really reading as much as she's staring at the words on the paper. Her eyes are glossy and drooping with insomnia. Her teeth grit as she blows air through her nose. A few strands of hair that missed her loosely tied ponytail dangle in front of her face but she doesn't move them. You gaze worriedly at her with concerned eyes as she bites her lip in frustration, shaking her head as she tries to read the notes again. You know this look, as you've seen it so many times during your college days. She's not retaining any information and it's infuriating her. Lara looks like she's about to combust with rage and annoyance, so you quickly come up with a distraction. You place a hand on her kneecap, your fingertips tracing over a thick bandage that's still slapped on it.

"What was this one from?" You ask, fully aware that you only understand how she came to get a minority of her cuts and bruises. Lara takes your question and stops scowling at the computer. She looks at you for a moment before she glances down to follow your gaze. She looks to the bandage and grumbles as she sighs gently.

"I think I might have sliced it open when I was tumbling down a ravine," she says in quiet voice, her brows furrowing as she relives the past memories, "but I can't remember which one. That damned island had me tripping and falling ungracefully. I swear, every second step was a slip and slide."

"Lara Croft, _ungraceful_? I would never have guessed it," you banter with her dryly, stilling your hand. Lara laughs absently at your tasteless humour as she shrugs her boney shoulders.

"Yeah, well, you know that I was never one for elegance," she says, glancing back up at you with a playful expression, "I bar-tended, practiced martial arts, and rode motorcycles, remember?"

"And you were damned sexy as you did it," you murmur, gazing at her lips. Lara blushes and turns away. Her expression goes from teasing to solemn as she looks at her bandages and scars. She fingers over the bandage wrapped around her wrist nervously. You reach out tentatively, pulling at her cheek in order for her to face you.

"You're still sexy, Lara," you say encouragingly, feeling the heat from her blush upon your cold palm. Lara can't stop the faint, broken smile from curling across her lips.

"You think so?" She asks in a quiet voice. You smile at her widely and lean in, kissing her lightly on the nose. "I _know_ so, Lara. You've always been so sexy, and these scars just add to that."

"Sam…," Lara breathes out in protest, but you shake your head, placing a chaste kiss to her chapped lips as you convey, through your actions, just how much she means to you. You can taste the sadness in her mouth, and you know that it's not just about Yamatai, these notes, or about even Brown and his company. Something else is bothering her, but you can't put a finger on exactly what it is.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," Lara mumbles against your lips, bowing her head slightly. You sigh as you pull back and look to her notes and the laptop. You make out pictures of Allistair Brown and Brown Corporations everywhere, complete with tiny annotations scribbled on the notepad.

Allistair Brown looks like your typical business mogul. He's about fifty-four, with silver hair and grey eyes sharp enough to kill a man. He's got a slender figure, wears crisp, well tailored suits and has a walking cane. The tip of the cane has the shape of a lion's head, carved from gold. His smile is more of a twisted, conceited smirk. You know from your father that he is well kept publicly and a great motivational speaker, but when it comes down to brass tax, he's a weasel.

_He calculates too well_, your father had told you he'd sipped from his tea. He'd been trying to convince you to run for the position of the financial consultant of the company, but you'd had no interest in working a desk job, even _if_ you were good at math and probability. _You'd be the perfect person for the job,_ he'd told you in a chuckle, _you'd have Brown running with his tail between his legs like a scared little puppy._ You had scowled at him before he'd looked you in the eye with a serious and stern face, one that only came when he was trying to warn you of something dangerous.

_Brown__ knows his company and isn't afraid to bend it to his will,_ he'd said in a cold, distant voice as he set down his cup._ Brown Corporations is him and him alone, Sam. You mustn't ever involve yourself with them. They are crafty and won't hesitate to put your neck on the line for a few dollars._ You shudder as you remember the conversation. You remember at the time thinking that you had no interest in the business end of your father's company, so you only can recount a few things he'd said about Allistair. You're almost tempted to ask him now if he knows anything, but you don't know where this is going and you'd rather not involve him. You may not see eye-to-eye with the man, but he's still your father and nearly dying helped you realize that you love him and need him safe.

You snap out of your daze and focus back on your girlfriend. Lara's got her original notes she'd recovered from the_ S.S Endurance_ open in front of her. She's pasted the pictures to the notes and there's some newly scribbled pen marks accompanying old, faded ink, indicating that she must be doing some more research. You peer closely at the scratchy blues and blacks on the pages. Her handwriting is fatigued, dissembled, messy. You bite your lip as you look back up to Lara with concern. The Lara you know has the neatest handwriting in the world. _This isn't your Lara_, you remind yourself sadly, _just like you aren't the original Sam, either_.

"My hand trembles," Lara explains quietly as she notices you staring with confusion at the notes. She swallows thickly as she looks to her lightly shaking wrists, softly muttering, "and I can't get it to stop. Every time I try to write or think about it, about them… about all of _this_, it shakes and I can't stop it, no matter how hard I try. It's like it's stuck like this." You take her palm into your hand and squeeze tightly, temporarily ailing her from the quivering.

"We'll get through this, Lara," you say encouragingly, even though you can feel that she's falling apart and you can't help her because you're just as broken. "We're a team, Lara. We'll make it."

Lara nods, unable to say anything else. She keeps her eyes glued to your intertwined hands as her shoulders droop. You pull your chair closer and kiss her cheek softly. Lara doesn't move or pull away, so you take to resting your head on her shoulder. You wind your other arm around her waist, careful of the still-healing puncture wound. The pads of your thumbs rub small circles into the padded bandage beneath her tank top, calming her down. You remember an old tactic from your college days that used to work against her anxiety and quickly revert to it, sensing Lara and you would both benefit from a bit of well-placed nostalgia.

"Read to me," you whisper lovingly into her ear as you press a kiss to the nape of her neck. Lara gulps nervously, her throat bobbing as she nods at you. She reaches for the laptop and drags it closer, grabbing one of her notepads in the same time. You watch as her other hand begins to shake. You squeeze the one you're holding and the trembling eases, but not completely.

Lara mumbles a quiet thank you as she takes a deep breath. She starts telling you about Allistair and how he had made investments with the military. She explains in her soft accented voice about how he had funded Whitman's show for almost a full decade, but had been growing tired of the decline of profits. He wanted something more, something that would change the face of archaeology, and so he helped Whitman with the expedition to Yamatai. She tells you of newspaper clippings she'd managed to scrounge through that prove he had simply come to Japan to 'pay his respects' to a late Whitman (Lara says this in a rather scornful, sarcastic tone, to which you agree). Mostly, he'd come to look at the artifacts. There's no security footage or evidence of him physically taking them, but Lara's convinced he's the culprit behind their disappearance. You watch as she pulls up diagrams and expenditure reports of the company, pointing to the areas where the money from Whitman's show usually goes. She talks about the key shareholders with different armies, only the countries names are expunged. The names Eris Carmichael and Jensen Reeves come up several times.

"Carmichael the head of the board of directors. Reeves is the coordinator of his foreign and domestic investments," Lara tells you as she pulls up a picture of them so that you can get a look at who they are.

Eris Carmichael is an attractive and slender, raven-haired young woman. She's got piercing blue eyes that remind you of the crystallized ice from your film expedition in the Arctic. Her jawline is sharp and angled, and she looks like she could kill you just from a simple glance. Her collarbones pop from beneath her sleek frame, portraying a level of assertiveness and almost dominance. You shiver simply glancing at her photo. Lara tenses in your grip, obviously feeling just as apprehensive.

"She looks like the human equivalent of a hawk," Lara says, shaking her head as she exits the picture. She clicks on another window, pulling up a picture of Jensen Reeves.

You relax a little at the sight of him. He looks slightly… Iranian, you guess, which is strange because he has a rather American sounding name. He's got tanned caramel skin, short but curly black hair, and a cleanly shaped beard. In the photo, he's smiling with a beaming grin, showing off a perfect set of pearly white teeth. There's a friendly sparkle in his eye as he has his arm looped around another woman. His free hand holds a champagne glass and it looks as though he is celebrating something. Lara leans into the computer, pointing at some of the details.

"This guy's apparently a playboy and philanthropist," Lara explains as pulls back from the computer, "but he's a risk taker. Brown trusts him with with the investments, but I think that he relies more on Eris than Jensen for serious internal decisions." You nod, looking again at the man.

"No wonder he's in PR," you murmur as you gaze at his warm amber orbs, "he's easy on the eyes." Lara growls something under her breath and you chuckle as she turns to you.

"Should I be worried?" Lara asks with a teasing, but warning tone. You smile at her subtle jealously and shake your head as you lean in to kiss her lips reassuringly.

"Babe," you murmur as you kiss her again, this time swiping your tongue against her bottom lip possessively. She parts her mouth hesitantly to allow you access before she sighs into your kiss. You smile against her lips as you pull away softly, giving her a nod as you tell her, "you're the only person I need right now, okay? I love you, Lara. I always will. I'd go as far as to bet he's terrible in bed anyways. Men are usually more of the lousy ones. It's always more fun with girls." Lara blushes at your comment as you watch her turn to face you with a puzzled expression.

"Would you ever do it again?" She asks you in a strangled voice. "Have sex with a man?"

The question strikes a match in your chest and sets it ablaze as you're transported back to Yamatai. You hear the voices, the grunts, the shouting of encouragement and the humiliating taunting reverberating off slick walls. You feel your insides stretching and curling involuntarily with a ghosted penetration. Their hands are on your skin, touching you roughly and then feigning softness and care. You almost always preferred the rough ones, because the soft touches only made you feel more sick. You shudder at the haunting memories as you reflexively shake your head, no. You're quiet for a moment, lost in tormenting experiences that have long since been burned into your conscious. Lara hangs her head as she turns back to the screen, unable to comfort you in anyway because she doesn't know even the surface of your peril. You almost feel compelled to tell her the truth.

_Almost_.

"I don't see myself having sex with anyone else other than you, Lara," you tell her instead, and it's not a complete lie. You want to enjoy intimacy with your girlfriend, but you just don't know when you'll be able to even look at yourself nude in a mirror, let alone expose yourself to Lara. You do want to take it all the way with her, but it's just a matter of your _ability_ to do so.

"So, why are you hesitating?" Lara's question jars you to a halt. Your heart stops beating and the organ leaps up into your throat. You pull your arm back from her as her cold gaze stares into you.

"E-Excuse me?" You ask, astonished that she'd ask you such a thing. Lara's always been one to simply joke, if _anything_, about your sex life. Never once has she ever been judgemental, no matter the amount of people you'd brought home during your college days. Lara softens her gaze slightly as she sees your discomfort, but it still remains distant nevertheless. Your girlfriend clears her throat as she looks to the amount of space you've put between the two of you with confused eyes. Your hands begin to shake as you lean away from her, afraid.

"We've come close to doing it on several occasions," Lara says quietly, her eyes still cautiously analyzing your separation, "but each time we reach that border, you pull away and stop. You seem unsure… I-I just want to know why?" You swallow thickly as you watch her gaze break through your walls. She's inside your mind and you can't block her out now. You bite your lip, running through your mind for an excuse to buy you time.

"I-I…, Lara, I," you stutter, trying to find something to say, but all you can hear are their voices in your head. You furrow your brows and quell the onslaught of panic that is tempting to drown you. You gaze shiftily from her eyes to the floor, to the computer and her notes, and then back to her eyes. Finally, you find your answer.

"I'm not ready," you choke out. You aren't. Not for sex, not for a confession, and definitely not for a confrontation. Lara continues to stare at you, wanting more than just a three word statement. You've been distant with her on this subject for almost two months now. You can't keep pushing her away. She deserves a truth you cannot provide, despite your best efforts.

"Look, Lara," you say softly, trying to search for an excuse, but you come up dry again. Dammit, why can't you tell her? _She's right there, Sam_, you chide condescendingly as you watch Lara's eyes narrow slightly, _why can't you stop being a coward and just tell her the damned truth?! She's your fucking _girlfriend_. _

She _needs_ to know.

"Sam, you've _never_ been hesitant on sex before," Lara says in a sharp quip, her voice a low growl. The tone she uses reminds you of Dimitri as he'd run his hand down your front, muttering his approval of your body in heavy, drunken Russian. You gulp and push away at empty air, causing Lara's brow to raise suspiciously. You shake your head, feeling panic coming back again.

_Don't fight it_, Dimitri had whispered sickly as he stripped your of your jacket, _it's always harder when the girls fight. Know your place, woman. I can treat you like a proper queen_. You'd screamed against your cloth gag, crying out for someone to rescue you, but no one could save you from what came next. His hips had pinned you down and you remember everything that'd happened, all the way to every minute detail; the unmistakable weight of his bulge resting against your waist; the smell of hard alcohol on his breath; the roughness of his hands as he'd run his fingers under your shirt and in your pants; the scratchiness of his stubble from his lips on your ear as he stripped you bare; the sound of his jeans unzipping echoing off the cave walls…

"Sam! For fuck's sake, woman. Are you even listening to me?!" Lara snarls viciously, slamming her palms down on the table in fury. You quickly flash back to the present, inwardly grateful that despite her angered tone, she managed to break you from the horrid memory. You grit your teeth at her expression, so cold and frustrated, and shake your head at her with disapproval. Your insides twist and curl and for a moment, you feel Himiko's rage mixing in with yours. You look down to your hands, half expecting them to be glowing again.

"Lara, this isn't about that, okay?" You snap back furiously, your brain finally coming to the rescue. "I've just never actually been _in love_ with the person I'm dating before. This is new to me too, okay?! Stop fucking pressuring me to do something I don't want to do. You're overwhelming me and I need you to stop." With that, you stand up and stalk away from her angrily. You hear the sound of Lara's chair scraping against the wood behind you.

"What the hell, Sam? I'm not pressuring you into anything! I just want to know why you can't give me a fucking reason as to why you're acting like this!" She shouts from behind you as you feel a hand on your arm spin you around. The tight grip causes you to let out a sharp scream as you claw at it, desperate for her to let you go. Lara holds on, trying to search for an answer to your constant suffering. The look in her eyes is so dark it causes you shudder out of pure terror.

"Let go of me," you whisper in a low hiss. Lara doesn't move as she purses her lips into an animalistic snarl, like she had done to the woman at the airport. Her wrist grips you tighter and you cry out in pain, trying to rip your hand away from her.

_Don't fight it_, Dimitri goads wickedly in the back of your mind. _Don't fight it, my queen._

You burst into a sob and the sound breaks Lara from whatever feral state she'd previously been in. The darkness in her eyes vanishes as she immediately lets go. She takes a few steps back, stumbling into the table and sending a few of her notebooks crashing to the floor. She looks to her hands with wide eyes laced with fear. You want to comfort her but you can't; you're still frozen, staring at the red welts on your wrists from her boney fingers. Lara curls her fingers into a tight fist and bunches her arms under her armpits as she folds into herself.

"Sam," she sobs, falling to her knees as she realizes what she had just done. "Oh, God, Sam, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it! Oh my God, what have I done? Oh, Sam… oh no. No… God. _No_…"

You want to say something, but you can't.

You turn away from her and walk back to the bathroom, in need of a warm shower. You leave your girlfriend in a hysterical, guilt-ridden mess on the floor. It's fight or flight and you choose flight. You don't even know if you even _have_ fight in you. You definitely don't have the strength to deal with her, nor do you have the courage to face whatever negative consequences that may come of confronting her with the truth. Instead, you hastily grab a pair of jeans, a fresh t-shirt, underwear, bra from the closet and step into the restroom. You set up the linen towel on the rack as you start the shower. You strip yourself bare, and for the first time since before Yamatai, you look in the mirror.

Though most of your bruises have yellowed, showing not-so-subtle signs of tapering off and healing, you still make out the small lines of scars from scratching fingernails or rope burns from being tied down. You gasp, holding a hand over your mouth as your eyes look to the bruises between your legs. There are even a few bite marks when some of the men had gotten really rough with you. Your mind is hazy on how many had taken you at once, but you remember that there had been too many times when it had been more than just one man on you. You reach down and touch the faint scar on your pelvic bone, from where Nikolai had drawn a knife and threatened to slice you into small cubes if you hadn't stopped protesting. You shudder and gasp as the memory takes over, causing you to crash to your knees. You sob hysterically, the sound muffled by the spray of the shower.

When you'd been checked out at the hospital upon returning, the nurses kept asking you what had happened. You'd remained silent as they'd run a kit and tested for any kind of diseases or even pregnancy, but somehow you miraculously walked away fine. You remember that those men were only savages because they'd been trapped on the island. _Maybe_, you faintly think, _they'd been good once_. Once, before they killed because of being trapped on the island, they'd been good men. Maybe they had families, people they wanted to go home to that loved them, but because of those storms, they became a hollowed out shell of who they once had been. You hear Lara sobbing over the sound of the shower's spray and you can't help the thought from bursting into your mind.

Will the same thing happen to her too?

You look back up from the floor into the mirror as you continue to think back to the hospital visit. You remember how the nurses had looked at you with worried eyes, telling you that you'd been extremely lucky to have walked away relatively unscathed. _Lucky_. As if mere chance were responsible for your rescue, _not_ the woman breathing off life support three floors up. You wanted to scold them and scream, which you had done anyways, but what did they know about being unscathed? All the damage wasn't to your body, but to your mind. Your soul, your sanity, your very essence of a being, that was what was truly corrupted from Yamatai. They didn't know that you were intruded by just those cruel men, but also by the lingering spirit of a half-dead, demented demigod. You'd been entered by literally _everything_ non-consensually and each time it happened, you couldn't fight it off. You were not Lara, graced with the ability to shoot your perpetrators in the face or drive a flaming torch through their skull. No, you are not a survivor. You are less than that; you are a _victim_ to your fate. You had to lie there and take it every time without complaining.

You never got that redemption, and you never will.

You stop crying eventually, realizing that you have to take a shower sometime before the water runs cold. You reluctantly peel your heavy, tired body off the tiled floor and drag yourself into the scalding water. It burns, instantly reminding of you of the fire ritual, but you push the memory and instead chose revel in the current pain you experience. It sickeningly reminds you that you are still alive despite everything that makes you feel like you're dead.

You look back down to the faint paint marks from Mathias' ritual and grimace. You'd been trying for weeks to scrub them off, but you can't seem to make them go away. You grab your luffa and squirt a gob of body wash into it before scrubbing hard upon the marked skin. Your strokes turn from regular to animalistic as you let out a growl. Red blood starts to seep from beneath the scrubber but you do it even harder. Maybe if you just scratch away at your skin, it will leave you. The crimson liquid pools into the drain as you finally cry out in defeat. You kneel in the shower, ignoring the dull ache of the tiles upon your bare kneecaps. You throw your head back in a silent scream, dropping the sponge and letting the water run over your back and shoulders. You cry harder, your tears melding with the water as you break down. You curl your head forward as you stare at the damage you'd done to yourself. There are sore, red scratch marks still lightly bleeding on your arms. The hot water stings at them, causing them to swell and burn from irritation.

You furrow your brow as you feel something tingling inside your chest. You hear _her_ whispering, clawing at your soul as you clench your fists so tightly your nails dig into your palm. You're pretty certain you're hallucinating as you glance back down to see that the cuts in your arms are growing a bright blue. Himiko screams again, jarring you to the bone with fear… and rage? The blue is growing across your skin faster, lighting your flesh like fireworks. Himiko is louder, closer, reaching out with cold fingers for your defenceless soul. You feel it again, that feeling from the island.

Himiko is _inside_ you.

"Sam, are you okay in there?" Lara's sore voice breaks the strange, supernatural feeling you'd been experiencing. You gasp and shudder, collapsing onto your belly in the shower. Water rolls into your mouth and spits out with every inhale and exhale. You're too weak to move or say anything. Your arms are back to normal, the blue light erased and the scratches have ceased their bleeding. You close your eyes as fatigue washes over you, the water turning cold. You feel like your body is slowly giving up, and at this point, you can't find the energy to fight it. You curl your knees to your chest in the fetal position as you concentrate on breathing regularly. Everything is so fuzzy, so confusing.

"Sam!" Lara calls again, furiously knocking on the door. Her voice is worried and plagued with guilt. She's rustling on the doorknob you'd locked (and now regret locking) with harsh tugs.

"Sam, answer me, Goddammit!" Lara screams, her voice distraught and cracking as she pulls again. You cough as some of the water trickles down the wrong end of your throat.

"I-I'm okay, Lara," you choke out as you shakily try to get to your feet. You slap at the nozzle of the shower, turning the water off before you collapse lightly again into the cold, wet floor.

"I'm fine, Lara. I-I'm just finishing up," you lie through gritted teeth, feeling tears leak out of the corner of your eyes. You hide your sobbing and your pain as you stumble to your feet. You grab the towel and wrap it around yourself. You dry yourself quickly before putting on your clothes. You avoid the mirror as you open the door to see a teary-eyed Lara staring back at you. You close your eyes and hang your head as you take a deep breath.

How long can you keep this up?

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Lara cries, sounding like a child who'd committed a mistake, like breaking their mother's favourite vase or accidentally spilling juice on the carpet. You open your eyes again, silent as you look at her bandaged legs. You stare at the multitude of scars and bruises that riddle her body and sigh with remorse. Lara speaks again, but you can't look at her just yet.

"S-Sam, I-I swear I don't know what happened to me," Lara pleads as she sobs, drawing your expressionless gaze back up to her red and puffy eyes. She has her arms curled around her chest protectively as she cries. She looks like an utter mess with snot running down her nose and her cheeks damp with tears. You feel sympathy towards her, because you know that you're just as broken, but for some reason, your body wants to shut her out and keep her away from you.

"You need to figure it out, Lara," you tell her in a icy voice that you can't control, "because I don't want to deal with it. I _can't_ deal with it, okay?" You don't want to be mean, but there is no nice way to put it. Lara's eyes widen as she begins to shake, her body curling into itself.

"A-Are you…, a-are y-y-you," she hiccups, unable to even finish her question as the sheer force of her sob wracks her frame. You stay silent for a moment, thinking about what she's asking you. Maybe you'd been too eager to jump into this relationship. Maybe you'd been naive when you thought you could taken on her burdens all the while trying to sort through your own.

Maybe you'd underestimated your strength after all.

But then you look back at Lara's scars and you realize that no, you haven't. You hit a rough spot, an impasse in the cliff you've been trying to scale. This isn't something that some basic talking will help with. You know that couples fight, but couples don't also get captured on an island or have to kill people. You close your eyes and remember that if it hadn't been for Lara, you wouldn't even be breathing. You swallow thickly, aware that Lara is practically two seconds from hyperventilating and going into a fully fledged anxiety attack. You can't comfort her, but that doesn't mean that you'll desert her.

"No," you tell her softly, still avoiding her gaze, "I'm not breaking up with you, Lara." Your girlfriend lets out a cry of relief and goes to extend her arms, but you shake your head and take a step back, your shoulders tensing. Lara retreats her hands and nods, understanding immediately.

"If we're going to continue this, there needs to be a few ground rules," you say sternly, even though it kills you on the inside. All you can hear is your mind screaming for you to stop pushing her away. Why can't you be like any normal couple that fights about the colour they want to paint their walls or who has to cook dinner? Why can't you be like them? You want to be able to kiss Lara spontaneously, to make love to her on the dime, whenever and wherever. You want to be able to love her without aching, to hold her without feeling like you're drowning. Your mind just repeats one question over and over again like a taunting mantra.

Why can't you just be _normal_?

"O-Okay," Lara whispers, her voice still shaky. She sniffles and you sigh, reaching into the bathroom to grab at a few tissues. You take Lara's face tentatively in your hands and wipe away the tears with soft strokes. Lara bows her head, her eyes laced with shame and remorse. You purse your lips to assure her that you're both fine, but you've already lied enough today.

"We need to take things slow, Lara," you murmur as you discard the tissues in the bin beside the doorframe. Lara nods, kicking her foot around absently. She looks like a child being scolded.

"I don't want to think about sex, Lara," you say as lightly as you can, though Lara still flinches. You rub the back of your hand through your wet matted hair, wincing as your fingers pull through the tangled knots. Lara licks her chapped lips and mumbles an agreement.

"I-I didn't mean what I said about that… about earlier, Sam," Lara breathes hoarsely, looking back up to give you a desperate look. Her shoulders droop in defeat as she closes her eyes. "I-I've never even _had_ sex before. I don't know what gave me the right to ask you. I've been a complete tosser to you and I can't make that go away. I'm sorry, Sam. I'll say it until my last breath, but no apology can take away what I've done. I'm just so damned sorry."

"Lara, stop," you say, softly cutting her off. You watch as Lara's back straightens and she winces. You clench your jaw as you take a deep breath. You take a moment to recuperate before you swallow thickly and rub your face with a clammy palm.

"We're both going through shit, okay? But we're taking it out on each other, and we need to stop doing that," you say gently. Your mind suddenly flashes back to Yamatai as you remember the wise words of Jonah. You look back to Lara and nod. "If we fight amongst ourselves, we lose."

"We won't lose, Sam," Lara says stubbornly, the familiar resilient fire returning to her voice. For a moment, you see a flicker of the old Lara in her eyes and you can't help but crack a small, faint smile at the sight. Lara gives you a dim smirk in response, nodding her head. Your heart stops beating at the loving gaze in her eyes as the butterflies in your stomach burst from the confines. They flutter aimlessly throughout your body, filling you with hope and security.

"We'll get through this," you tell her, sighing deeply as you take a step forward. You gently reach for her cheek, palming your thumb over the flesh, reddened and swollen from her crying. "We have to get through this, Lara. It's eating away at us." Lara doesn't respond as her eyes darken. You close your own as you lean forward, your forehead lightly pressing against her nose.

"I just want it to go away," you whimper with a broken heart, "I just want to wake up one day and not feel like I'm still trapped with that crazy old man and his witch. I want to be happy again, Lara. I-I… I'm _not_ happy."

You begin to cry against her face, unable to contain your emotions. Lara hums softly, lifting her arms to gently encase you in a protective embrace. You place your forearms against her front, your hands pushed against her chest to give yourself some space from her. Lara doesn't say anything, but you can feel, with the tensing of her breathing, that she knows you're not ready for that level of closeness. You feel her sigh into your damp hair, a long and deep breath.

"One day," Lara murmurs with a forced effort to make it sound believable, "one day, we'll get there, Sam. We'll be happy again." You cry harder because you know that she doesn't even have faith in herself. Lara has always been the leader in your relationship, friends or girlfriends, and the fact that even she has lost her sense of direction reminds you of just how damaged you both are. Your eyes hurt and your arms are stinging again as you push off from the hug.

"Sam?" Lara asks as her eyes drift down to the second source of your pain, "what happened to your arms?" You can sense the worry and dread in her voice, but you don't have the energy to reassure her. You look up to her, deciding that for the first time today, you'll be honest.

"I felt her on me," you whisper hoarsely, your voice void of any proper emotion, "I thought she was still there. I saw the blue light from the island and so I panicked. I thought… I thought if I could get it off somehow, she'd get out of my mind." Your explanation is shaky, breathed between hiccuped cries as you turn away from her, ashamed of your actions. Lara shakes her head as she gently taps your shoulder, bringing you back to her.

"Oh Sam," Lara whimpers mournfully as you pause and cock your head back at her. She looks to a few of the deeper scratches and swallows thickly. "A-At least let me put something on them. They look like they're stinging like a bugger." You scoff at her suggestion and she raises a brow. You shake your head before you jerk your head up at the sight of her body, basically wrapped up like a mummy.

"You're telling me that these things are hurting when you've got stitches in nearly available patch of skin on your body?" You ask incredulously. Lara takes a deep breath as she reaches for your hand. You don't stop her as her fingers skitter up the small welts, causing you to wince. She pauses for a moment before something in her eyes flash.

"Pain doesn't have a limit, Sam," Lara whispers absently, her gaze fixed on your cuts, "nor does it have a beginning or an end, at times. It doesn't have a definition or a box that it fits into; it shows in different ways. Sometimes, we just have to accept it for what it is." Your breath hitches as you watch her eyes drift up to meet yours. Her bottom lip quivers as she sighs, "my father once told me that when I broke my leg falling out of a tree. He'd told me that pain is what makes us stronger, but not what makes us who we are. It's what we do with our pain, he'd said as he set my leg, _that_ is what is what defines us. I thought he was an idiot, but I never really understood what he meant until now."

"What you feel, Sam," Lara murmurs encouragingly as her hand comes back down to lightly intertwine both your fingers together. She gives your hand a gentle pull, assuring you of her presence. "What you feel is _valid_. There is no comparison. My scars and yours are just that - _scars_. There's no such thing as better or worse. There's only pain."

"Lara," you choke out, now feeling guilty for having hidden such a crucial piece of information from her. You purse your lips to try and explain to her what happened with those men and Mathias on the island, but before you can utter a word, she shakes her head at you. She tugs lightly at your hand and nods her head towards the living room as she hums, "let's get you fixed up, shall we?"

You bow your head and follow her silently as she sits you down. She grabs for the small med kit in the cupboard and pulls out some ointment and a few bandages. She cares for you with the same delicate finesse you'd used with her. Her eyes occasionally meet yours, and you find yourself blushing. Patching up someone's wounds is hardly considered an intimate act, but for some reason, you can't help but feel slightly warm and comforted by her presence. With anyone else, you'd be bitching about how cold the cream is, or how your cuts sting. With Lara, it feels therapeutic. It's like she's doing more than just healing your cuts and bruises. It's as if her slender fingers are piecing together the broken shards of your life, her nimble movements glueing the ripped tears in your soul until you are whole once more. You watch as she lightly smooths a bandage down with such feathered lightness, you barely feel it.

Your mind flashes back to when you'd accidentally cut your palm open on a broken beer bottle one time you'd gotten drunk at The Nine Bells. She'd been so careful and tender with you, as if she were terrified you'd break even more as she'd stitched you up. As you remember it now, at how you'd looked at her with that dreamy, slightly drunken gaze, you realize you'd always been in love with her. It just took you a disastrous adventure and near death to figure it out.

Lara soon finishes up with your small nicks and scratches. She gets up stiffly, putting away the medical supplies before rejoining you at the table. Her notes are just as she had left, except for the few that lay scattered on the ground. Lara grumbles something and quickly picks them up, placing them on the table before she sits down and sighs. You stay in silence for a moment, remembering how you'd gone from basically fighting and screaming in this exact place, and now you're back to tranquility.

Is this how it always will be?

It's unhealthy and you know it. Lara probably knows it too, but everything has changed and before you know it, _unhealthy_ is the only thing you have to hold onto. It's not ideal, but it's something. You're spinning out of control, but you're spinning out of control _with_ her. You're not alone through this anymore. This isn't about miraculously being cured of the sickness that festers between the both of you, because you know that's unreasonable. Instead of hopelessly thinking you'll suddenly be ailed from the torment, you will instead focus on getting through each gruelling day, no matter what agony or anguish the past dares to spit at you. Through the flames, you will walk, hand in hand with Lara, until either her body or yours combusts. One day, one of you will no longer be able to take it, but you dare not dwell on the inevitable. You can't do that right now. Right now, you need hope.

Right now, you need Lara and she needs you.

You look back to Lara as you watch her staring at the faint dents in the wooden table from when she'd smacked her palms down on it earlier. Her hands are shaking again, like they'd done earlier this morning. You feel a pang of guilt strike at your gut as you see hot, fat tears welling in her eyes as she struggles to read her notes through blurred vision. Inside your chest, your heart breaks into uneven pieces. You place a hand over the material of your shirt, almost certain that you can feel the tearing through the cloth. You turn away from her for a brief moment, overwhelmed by the intense sadnesses and longing you feel.

Outside the kitchen window, you watch as the rainstorm begins to dim down to reveal the early rays of the morning sun bursting through the clouds. The light spills over the forest near the cabin, breathing life into the trees. Today is a new day, and you have to make of it what you will. Lara is right, your pain is something that you cannot define or compare, but you _have_ it. You accept that you're hurting, and for some reason, your chest feels a bit lighter. You glance back at your girlfriend and sigh gently.

You reach forward and place your arms around her waist as you'd done earlier. You fight off the bad memories with a newfound strength as you kiss her shoulder. Lara looks at you with a raised brow, confused, but you shake your head. You look back to her findings and sigh as you lean your head into the nape of her neck. Lara stiffens for a moment, but at your touch, she soon relaxes slightly. Her breath becomes slow and spaced out as you squeeze her sides gently. You glance back at her quivering palms and clear your throat. You swallow anxiously as you return to where it all fell apart, blindly hoping for a new, positive twist of fate.

"Read to me," you whisper gently. Lara tenses for a moment, looking down at you for reassurance. Your eyes are clear, unlike they'd been earlier, and you nod again, wanting for her to continue. She gulps and clears her throat as she begins to read off her notes again. You tighten your grip around her in order to reaffirm that she is safe, that _you_ are safe.

It takes a minute, but eventually, her hands stop shaking.


	8. Heron Blue: Lara

**A/N: **This story is **slightly AU** with the backstories on Roth, Grim, and Alex. I don't really know what their original stories were so I just made up one. I know that technically Roth is supposed to know that Alisha is his daughter and that they've met before, but I thought it would fit better with this story if Alisha had never met him. Anyways, thanks for all the follows and reviews and favourites thus far! You guys are truly incredible and amazing. Let me know what you think so far and I hope you like this chapter, despite its ungodly length (sorry about that) and sombre theme. Enjoy! :)

IMPORTANT NOTE: **The Lament being sung is by Light of Aidan** (as used in the Halo 3: ODST Live Action trailer), but I just thought it was really fitting for the story and since it's Welsh (I know Lara's British and Grim's Scottish, but still), I thought I'd use it and incorporate it as thought it were a real lament (which I doubt it is). It's really haunting and I suggest, if you haven't heard it before, to listen to it when it's sung in the story. Just search up, **"Light of Aidan - Lament"** and it should come up on YouTube.

* * *

**Oakhill Cemetery - Washington D.C, The United States of America**

Today is the day.

It's raining. An ironic slap in the face as you stand at the gate of the cemetery. You hold the umbrella for you and Sam, staring at the letters engraved upon the entrance crest. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, but you hold them back. You will not cry, not yet. You glance down to Sam, who is dressed in a subtle black dress and is wearing one of those black veils over an elegant hat. Her gloved hands are enveloped in the crook of your elbow as she presses her small body close to yours. She stares blankly ahead, emotionless.

The water continues to patter against the shield you hold above both your heads with a quiet, but relentless force. Beside you, the crunch of tires upon gravel indicates that the others have arrived. You cock your head over your shoulder to see Reyes' pickup truck pull into the spot beside the jeep you'd driven from the cabin. She steps out of the truck, dressed in a black blazer that's nearly identical to yours. She's wearing a sheer white top underneath and black slacks, while you're donned in a suit and skinny black tie. You both exchange a nod as you watch the other side of the door open up. A medium sized figure hops onto the gravel, the door shutting. You see the teenager, wearing the same outfit as Reyes, walk up to Roth's ex-lover with slouched shoulders and eyes glued to the ground.

"Alisha, this is Lara," Reyes says in a guarded voice, but her tone is loving and maternal. The young girl doesn't say anything and instead kicks absently at a rock. You swallow nervously as you rub the back of your head. You look at a small bracelet on her wrist and notice it immediately. Attached to the black threads is a white sapphire pendant.

"White sapphire is the stone of courage and wisdom," you tell her softly, your hand reaching to finger the jade pendant around your own neck. Alisha stops kicking at the rock for a moment.

"Bullshit," she snorts, avoiding your gaze as she clenches her fists. You don't flinch, because you understand her pain. You'd been there once before. You take a deep breath and look to Reyes, who just doesn't meet your eyes.

"Alisha," Reyes says in a soft voice, catching her attention. Reyes' daughter's head snaps up and your breath hitches as you recognize the cold glance in her eyes. It's the same expression you'd once had when Roth'd told you of your parents deaths. Alisha looks at you for a moment before she hangs her head again, mumbling a quiet, meaningless apology. Reyes watches as more cars start to pool into the lot, her chest tensing as members of Roth, Alex, and Grim's family meet at the cemetery. One familiar car pulls in, and the big man himself walks out, donned in a suit and tie.

"Jonah," Reyes sighs contently as he walks over. He gives her a gentle hug before reaching out to you. He smothers you in a bear hug and, despite the intense pressure upon your still-healing wounds, you can't help be grateful at his presence. You wrap your arms around his wide sides, tucking your head into his shoulder. He hums a quiet hello and a soft murmur of condolences as he takes to gently rubbing circles into your back.

"Little Bird," he whispers, pulling away to flash you a grim smile, "it's good to see you on your feet again. I knew that you'd make it through." You can't give him an answer, so you manage a faint nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Sam lets go of you to greet Jonah in a hug, too.

Jonah had been the one to suggest that you'd do the funerals all together, not in a sense to get them all out of the way at once, but because it would spare you the pain. You think that the sole reason for the suggestion would have been because Roth's death would've been too much. With Grim and Alex, it would make it less burdened. Nevertheless, you insisted he and Grim, and even Alex, be buried with a soldier's ritual. The brigade that Roth and Grim had served with were on the way, transporting the empty caskets that would be lowered into the ground.

Another car pulls up and you recognize Alex's mother from the car. Her eyes are dark and distant as she peers at you from the tinted glass of the SUV, but you don't keep eye-contact with her for very long. You know that she only invited you because of how much Alex meant to you, but more so because of how much you'd meant to him. It had been no secret that he'd crushed on you, and despite how guilty you may have felt, you never could reciprocate those feelings. Not because he was Alex, but because he was a man, and you'd never felt anything special towards men. You'd kind of already known that, but you'd always been so busy in school to ever really admit it. Alex had always been like a younger brother to you, someone that you could rely on to keep you laughing and cheerful, even on Yamatai. You remember how he'd screamed at the top of his lungs, _Lara Croft, you're my hero!_ when you'd managed to get a message through to a plane. The memory brings a broken and solemn smirk to your face as you bow your head.

"Lara," Sam's voice reaches out to you, her hands tightening around your bicep. You wince as she accidentally presses over the still sore puncture wound from when you'd taken a bullet to the arm. Sam sees the pain in your eyes and softens her grip, mumbling an apology.

"It's okay," you whisper back, placing your free hand atop hers as you both turn back to see Reyes standing with Alex's mum and dad, talking in low voices. Alisha is glued to her mother's hip, and as much as she looks like she's ready to fight anyone that dares approach her, you can make out the distinct fear and bereavement in her eyes.

"She'll never get to meet her father," you mumble as the clouds cackle overhead. Sam's hands tremble as she presses herself close to you. Her gaze follows yours as she sighs gently.

"At least she still has her mother, Lara," she murmurs softly turning her head up to face you. She reaches up with one palm and angles your cheek downwards so that you're making direct eye-contact with her. She rubs the soft pads of her thumbs over your gaunt cheekbone.

"You gave her that much, darling," Sam tells you encouragingly, "she's not alone. You did what you had to. Roth knew the risks as well as you did." You hang your head and look back to Reyes, now staring at you over Alex's mum's shoulder with a distant gaze. Her eyes drift to Sam briefly before she looks back up at you.

"Yeah," you choke out hoarsely as you tear your line of sight away from Reyes, "but at what cost?" Sam closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. You look to Reyes and Alex's parents as you grit your teeth. You have to say something to them. You can't keep hiding.

Sam supports you the entire way there, her hands assuring you that you're not alone through this. You reach the women and the man as they turn to face you. Alex's mum looks up and down at you, her lips curling into a frown. Alex's father looks less angry and more sympathetic as he nods at you. Alex is basically a carbon copy of him, you realize as you scan over his features. He's tall, broad shouldered and has the same eyes as his son. You feel your stomach knot as tears well in his eyes as he looks over your various scars with a saddened expression. He subtly places his hand on his wife's shoulder as he steps forward, using his other hand to extend outwards for you to shake.

"Peter Weiss," he says in a low voice, his tone light with grief. You take a deep breath before you meet his hand in a firm grip, willing yourself not to break down with remorse.

"Lara Croft," you say gently, your words quivering slightly. You let go of his hand and look to the ground for a moment, sucking in a deep breath as you think about what you want to say.

"Alex…, he… he was," you stumble on the words, your jaw aching as grief rips through you. Alex's mother's face lights up in fury as she rips her husband's hand off her shoulder.

"I know what he was," she snarls at you through gritted teeth, "and you took him away from us. You came back and I never even got to see my boy one last time. I never got to hold him or tell him I loved him, dammit!" You don't even flinch. You deserve every ounce of hate she throws at you. Sam jolts from her spot, but you grip her wrists, telling her this isn't her place. Your girlfriend looks like she is about to intervene when suddenly Peter clears his throat.

"Maria, this isn't the place or time. We're all grieving our son's death. I'm sure Lara did her best to save him," Peter murmurs gently, rubbing circles on Maria's back. The woman shudders and sobs, turning away from you in disgust as your heart breaks into microscopic shreds instantly.

"Alex died saving me," you tell them quietly, "if it hadn't been for him, no one would have gotten off that island. Your son was a hero, ma'am, and I'm sorry I couldn't save him."

"Sorry?" Maria spits bitterly, turning her face back to glare at you. "I have to bury an empty casket and all you have to say for yourself is a fucking _sorry_?!"

"Maria!" Peter interjects, pulling on her shoulders. Maria shakes her head, struggling against his strong grip as she snarls at you viciously. You stand your ground, stoic and unmoving, despite how badly you want to crumble into pieces at the sight of the pure sorrow in her eyes.

"No, Pete," she seethes, "because of this English _bitch_, my son is dead!"

"Hey!" Sam quips, no longer heading to your cautious grip as she stands in front of you. "Lara is not at fault for any of this. We didn't know what was on that island. No one could have prepared us for what we had to face, okay? It was hard on all of us. We all knew what the risks were, Alex more than most. Your son was smart, Mrs Weiss, and he was an incredible human being. He died just as that. Lara didn't kill him. The island and those retched people did." Maria shakes her head at your girlfriend before glaring back up at you with a gaze sharp enough to cut through glass.

"It should have been you," she growls lowly. The words break every tangible line of muscle and nerve that had been holding you together for so long. You take a step back and bow your head as you can't stop the shaking from ensuing. You see Alex in your mind from your dreams, charred and burnt from having been caught in the explosion. You see the grim smile on his face as he'd let you go, giving you a chance to get away to save the others.

_How often does a guy like me get to be a hero, Lara?_

"I know," you whisper, your voice cracking as tears stream down your face. Sam gasps at your reply, and even Maria and Peter raise their brows in surprise. Alex's mum stops her glaring to look at you desolately. You meet her gaze with an equally void glance as you nod your head.

"I know that it should have been me," you tell her honestly, "because if I'd just gone down with the rest of the group, he wouldn't have tried to go to the ship alone. I know it should have been me because when I told Roth and Whitman to take the ship to the Dragon's Triangle, _Alex_ had warned me about the storms." Your voice doesn't contain any form of anger, bare for some self-deprecation and bitterness towards the situation, but you keep your tone steady and calm. Maria lets out a faint cry at the look in your eye as you step forward, a few inches from her shaking body. Peter winds an arm around her shoulders, a bit wary of your new visage, too.

"I get it, Mrs Weiss, believe me. I wake up every morning and think the same damned thing until my head breaks and I'm crying. I see them and feel their losses everywhere I go. I hear Alex's screaming as he'd been tied down on that ship. I feel his blood on my palms as I'd tried to free him from the wreckage. He - _all of them_ \- they're _always_ with me, haunting every second of my life," you tell her through a clenched jaw. Sam's gentle hand is on your side, trying to get you to pull away from the situation, but you can't let go. You shake your head as you lick your chapped lips.

"It should have been me," you say with flat tone, "I _know_ it should have been me."

"Lara, stop it," Sam says in a hushed cry, pulling on your arm with urgency. You can hear the bereavement in her voice as she lets your name slip past her tongue. You lock stares with Alex's mother and watch as the fire in her eyes simmers and is extinguished by tidal waves of grief and loss. She opens her mouth to say something spiteful, but you pull back, retreating to the safe arms of your girlfriend.

"I have to go talk to Grim's daughter," you say quietly, unable to fathom another guilt-ridden conversation, "excuse me." Maria and Peter don't stop you as you quickly turn away from them, walking up the path towards Grim's family. Sam follows in tow, her hand still gripping yours tightly.

"Lara, stop, just hang on a second," she whispers once you're out of earshot of the Weiss'. You shake your head, unable to say anything to her. Your mind is a frazzled mess and you can feel the voices returning. You just need to be as far away as you can from the nagging guilt. You don't want to talk about it, because you know it's the truth.

You _are_ the cause of your friends' deaths.

Alex had been the humble nerd that you'd befriended in your mandatory computer class. He'd sit through hours of teaching you how to code, no matter how technologically inept you'd been. It had been frustrating and long, and probably the most time consuming experience of your life. He'd been patient, always offering his support as you made mistakes. You even remember the one time you'd chucked your programming textbook against the wall in frustration as you kept messing up. Alex had held his hands up defensively, chuckling as you'd started grumbling profanities.

_Whoa there, Tiger,_ he'd said with a tease as he stepped past you for the book, _no need to get angry at the poor book. It's not its fault that you can't do basic html coding. _

_How the fuck is this going to help me, anyways? _You'd snapped at him, _I'm an archaeology major! I don't even need a damned computer, let alone need to know how to make a website! This is pointless and I don't understand why it's fucking mandatory. I hate it! _You'd scowled, rubbing your palm against your forehead in frustration as he'd tugged you back to the computer. He opened it, but glanced at you with a teasing worry as he raised his brow.

_You're not gonna throw my laptop too, are you? Warn me now so I can go check the warranty. I think I still have a year or two left,_ he'd joked, tossing you a playful wink. You'd been almost tempted to throw him, but you couldn't help but chuckle as he'd wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. You sighed and let him run through the processes again.

_You still haven't answered my question, Alex,_ you'd muttered as he rattled off on how to change a font colour and add subtext to titles, something he'd already taught you probably twelve times in the past week. Alex doesn't look up at you, but stops talking so that you can speak. You'd drawn an annoyed breath as you asked, _why the bloody hell do I need this in my life? What will I do with it? _Alex'd stopped, setting down the book and smiling softly. He'd turn to you with a serious expression as he pointed at all of your research papers that you'd had scattered across your desk. His gaze settles on the countless positive remarks and the abundances of 'A's written in bold, red ink.

_Because, _he'd told you, _you're gonna be famous one day._ _People all over the world are going to want to know your name, Lara, and when they search you up on the internet, you'd best not have a shitty-ass website. Especially one with horrible pastel colours._ He nodded at you, beaming with pride as he'd patted your hand. You still remember how happy that'd made you. You'd given him a sheepish smile before you'd grumbled, _yeah well, at least I'm not dull and grey._

_That you are not, _Alex'd laughed, _that you most _certainly_ are not, LC._

Alex had been one of your best friends, but you'd never realized just how amazing he had been. He'd walked you to your classes but never asked anything in return. He didn't even hesitate when you asked him to help out as a technician on your expedition. He'd even offered to do it pro bono, saying he couldn't wait to jerry-rig something together. You knew how he'd felt for you and you let him die with one measly kiss on the cheek to answer for all his hard work and dedication. You spent more time chasing myths and legends to even acknowledge his unrequited feelings for you. Through it all, your ignorance and his festering pain, he still didn't think twice before giving his life for you.

All you have to show for it is an empty casket and a blank apology.

"Lara, you know what she said wasn't true," Sam urges, tugging on your arm again to draw you into the present. You bite your lip, tasting iron in your mouth as blood cracks the surface of the chapped skin. You turn your head and send her a look that shuts her up and she bows her head, mumbling a quiet apology. Your chest tightens as you see the hurt in her gaze. God, can't you go one day without smashing everything around you to smithereens?

"Ms Croft?" You hear a soft feminine voice interrupt your inner chiding. You turn your gaze to see a middle aged woman standing in front of you, her eyes wet with tears and brows creased in concern. She looks just like Grim, except in younger, female form. You nod your head at her as she takes a step towards you.

"I'm Eileen Grimaldi," she whimpers, trying to fight off the tears, "my father spoke plenty of you." You give her a small squeeze on the shoulder, erasing the memories from your encounter with Alex's parents. Eileen seems less infuriated and more stricken than anything.

"As Grim did of you," you reply, giving her a nod, remembering all the times Grim had told you of his daughter and their adventures together. Eileen sniffles and smiles as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eyes. You step back, giving her some space to get her thoughts and bearings straight.

"I grew up with Roth and Grim," you tell her, looking down to your folded hands. You pause for a moment as you think about the crazy old man before you chuckle sadly. Rubbing the back of your neck with your shaking palm, you glance back up at her with a tired smile.

"He taught me how to steer a boat when I was just twelve," you tell her, recounting the story in your mind. You remember Grim's rasped chuckle as you'd shot him a lopsided grin. Roth had been sitting in the corner, gripping the railing with white knuckles while trying to contain his breakfast through a greened, pale face. The boat had sloshed about sporadically, but Grim just kept laughing as he looked at Roth with a smirk.

_You've survived worse in basic, ya old codger!_ He'd shouted as the hull lurched violently to one side. He howled with laughter as Roth glared at him and then told you to quit playing around with the boat like it was a toy. You'd never seen Roth so terrified before. You'd stuck your tongue out at him as you jerked a hard right. Grim teased him some more before he finally eased you off the wheel, taking the lead and allowing Roth's stomach to settle.

_You've got the makings of a great captain in ya, girl,_ Grim had said, throwing you a teasing wink as he'd pulled the boat back in the shore. Roth'd leapt off like a scared kitten, causing the both of you to erupt in a fit of laughter. Grim had placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

_You're gonna make a fine young explorer,_ he'd said with affection, _just like your father._

_One day you better take me on an expedition of yours, _he'd told you with a stern wink, rubbing your shoulder. He knotted the ropes from the ship to the harbour, sighing in content. You had watched as he'd reached into his back pocket, pulling out a map. _You know where I'd like to go, Lara? _You'd shaken your head, unsure. Grim gave you his famous grin as he pointed to the large country on his map, marked with a faint red circle.

_The United States of America,_ he'd said, making a grand arm gesture, _the land of hopes and dreams, they say! Opportunity and diversity. _You'd peered at the map, feeling excited that maybe one day, you'd be able to bring him there. He points to the small nook in the bottom of the country, laughing.

_That right there is Florida, my girl,_ he'd explained with a chuckle, _apparently that's where old farts like me go to retire and sun bathe. Maybe one day, I'll get to see what the hype is all about. _

You told him you'd be the first to take him there.

"I can't imagine that'd gone well," Eileen murmurs, shaking her head as she sees the nostalgia and sadness in your expression. You smile and shake your head, shrugging your shoulders at the same time as you shake off the memory. You're aware that you're back in the present but somehow, you still feel Grim's ghost haunting you, causing bone-chilling shivers to skitter up and down your frame. Eileen looks over your shoulder to Sam, giving her a warm smile.

"This must be your girlfriend? Samantha, I'm assuming?" She asks gently in a knowing tone. You raise your brow as you turn to look at Sam, who looks just as shocked as you do. Besides Reyes and Jonah, no one else really knows that you and Sam were a couple. You shift on your feet, and Sam bites her lip nervously as the both of you seem unsure of what to do or say. You look back to Eileen and she simply nods in approval.

"Grim told me you had a close relationship with her," she explains, giving Sam a warm smile, "my father was always one to find gossip where there was none, so please correct me if I'm wrong." Sam shakes her head as she softens against your side, her arms lightly linking with yours. You smile down at her involuntarily as she sighs gently.

"Well, I wish he'd told us sooner," Sam murmurs light-heartedly, "as we only found out after all of this happened." Eileen gazes back at you with a distant expression as she sighs with disdain.

"It's often that we realize what we need when it's too late," she says wisely, before nodding her head at the both of you,  
"but it's good that you both realized it and have each other to weather these storms." Eileen looks at you with tears in her eyes as she reaches forward, lightly squeezing your shoulder.

"Grim wanted you to be happy. It seems as she does that for you. I wish you the best of luck and peace," she murmurs in approval, patting your shoulder, "I think that's what we all need at the moment." You nod in a silent agreement. Your breath hitches as her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of Grim in her gaze. Her features soften as she looks over to a few people waiting around some soldiers.

"That's my father's old battalion," she trails off, sadness pulling at each word, "I'd best go give my condolences to them. I knew that he and Roth were close with those lads." You swallow thickly as you nod. Eileen sighs as she pulls you and Sam into tight, individual hugs.

"Take care of yourselves, young ones," she says softly, lightly squeezing your shoulder again, "I know this isn't easy. Grim would want you to keep your chin up and walk like no one's watching. He loved you as he'd loved me. Know that, Lara. He'd have followed you anywhere, lass." You feel the tears again, bubbling like hot lava against your ducts as you suppress the urge to break apart at her feet.

"He did," you choke out, Sam's hand curling tighter around yours. You breathe deeply as Eileen smiles again, a few tears straggling down her cheeks as she nods.

"That he did. It wouldn't be my father unless he went out with a bang," she murmurs, chuckling sadly. You lick your lips and hang your head, mumbling a quiet agreement.

You stand there in silence for a moment or two longer before Eileen says her goodbyes, leaving you alone with Sam. Your girlfriend and you simply look at the scene before you. All around you are people dressed in black. Umbrellas are propped open nearly everywhere, blanketing the world in that bleak darkness. You tense up as you remember the last time you'd attended a funeral. It had been your parents, and it had look so much like this.

Only now, neither Roth nor Winston are there to keep you strong.

"I'm not ready," you breathe out shakily, your hands gripping Sam's tighter. Sam follows your stare to the three caskets lined up for the procession. Two of them have military regiment flags draped over them, and the other one has an American flag covering it. The scene itself is depressing enough as it is, but what makes it more upsetting is that those caskets are empty. You couldn't even bring them home, one last time.

Alex never got to love you.

Roth never met his daughter.

Grim never got to see America.

"Sam," you whisper, your chest rattling as panic and grief take over. You feel something clawing at your heart, tugging at the arteries and nicking the vessels until the blood springs a leak.

"Sam, I'm not ready," you cry out, the umbrella falling from your hands. You almost crumble to your knees from the force of your sob, but Sam is there to catch you. Her grip is strong around your waist and shoulders. She draws you into a powerful hug, rubbing your back soothingly.

"Ssh, Lara, it's okay, you're not alone through this, sweetheart," she coos, even though her voice shakes with sadness and pain. It hits you, that even with her here, it still feels like you are alone.

Roth, Grim, and Winston had been the three fathers you'd grown up with in the absence of your own. You'd learned everything with them, from basic things such as ironing, sewing, and cooking, all the way up to climbing, self-defence, survival, and your basic knowledge. The three of them had cared for you and sheltered you from the harsh realities of being orphaned at such a young age. There were times where they'd even made you feel like you'd never lost your parents in the first place. They spent all those years loving and nurturing you, and you couldn't even pay them back. The remorse you feel is deeply seeded, and you feel like you're being hit by a train.

"I miss them so much," you cry out into her shoulder, gripping her body tightly to yours. Sam doesn't care that the rain is collapsing down upon the both of you as she simply holds you closer.

"I know, darling," she says through a pained sigh, "I know and I wish I could make the hurt go away. I wish that I could reach inside and share the sadness with you. I don't want you to feel like this anymore. I'm sorry I'm not Roth, nor am I Grim, or your parents." You cry harder at her confession, feeling her hands wrap around you tighter. She kisses your shoulder discreetly, her mouth lingering upon the drenched fabric of your blazer.

"I'm not them," she says, words muffled by your suit, "but I'm still here. I'm not leaving."

"Promise?" You ask before you even understand that you've spoken. Sam stiffens, and for a moment you think that she's going to tell you that she can't say that, but she surprises you as always by strongly nodding her head, murmuring assuringly, "I promise, Lara."

Sam holds you awhile longer like that, her arms wound around you like a protective shield from the rest of the world. Eventually, a clearing of a throat interrupts your moment. You both reluctantly tear apart to see Reyes, Jonah, Maria and Peter, and Eileen waiting for you. Pulling away from Sam, you wipe away the remnants of your tears and sigh, nodding your head at them. Reyes rubs the back of her neck slowly as she looks down to Alisha, who is burning a glare into your eyes. Her fists are tightly locked and she seems like she's ready to kill you. You've faced down the Oni, a mountain of Himiko's Storm Guard, and an army of at least five hundred Russian men, but never have you ever felt such fear from simply looking into that teenager's eyes.

"The procession is about to start," Reyes says with caution to her voice, stepping slightly in front of her daughter. You break your glance to Roth's lover and suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes as you know that you must face the inevitable sooner or later.

"Okay," you whimper sadly, bowing your head. Reyes' eyes flash, and for a moment you see hurt and sympathy in those chocolate depths. Before you can purse your lips, the expression is lifted and the same stoic Reyes you'd always known is brought back. She turns her back on you and diligently leads the way. Alex's parents don't say anything as they fall in step behind her, with Eileen closing the gap quickly. You and Sam bring up the rear in silence, before all of you take your seats under the tent at the outdoor memorial.

The pastor steps up to the podium, dressed in a casual black uniform. Neither Roth nor Grim had been particularly religious, but Maria and Peter had been adamant on hiring a priest to talk, even if just for the introduction. You can almost hear Grim in your ear, chuckling in a drunken rasp at the load of crap coming out of the man's mouth as he spoke about how God'd taken their souls to a better place. You remember as Roth had chided with him, telling him that you were free to take whatever path you'd wanted and that they shouldn't pressure you into not having a faith.

_We're all gonna die one day,_ Grim had quipped back, roaring with laughter as he'd taken a swig from his beer, _what does it matter as to which bugger takes our bloody souls? As long as they're waiting for me with a good pint and some crisps, I couldn't be bothered as to what their damned name is! _

The memory makes you smile slightly. Roth had always brought you up as more of the respectable one. Grim had given you the potty mouth you'd been known to have when you were drunk or angered. You recall Sam telling you one time in college when you'd come home from a nasty late shift at The Nine Bells, all cut up and tired, that you turned too incorrigible when you started using British idioms and expressions. It got to a point where half the stuff sounded nonsense to her, but you never failed to remind her that she had some American expressions that didn't make any sense either, to which she'd told you to quit changing horses in midstream.

You still have no idea what that one means.

You look at her now, staring intently at the pastor. Her hand is clutching yours in a soft grip, but she doesn't do much more than that. You turn your gaze to Reyes and Alisha, both sitting with their heads bowed. You look around to see others doing the same thing. You glance back up at the pastor to see him staring at you with an empathetic expression. Nothing in the way his eyes bear into yours scream out that he wants you to pray. He simply nods at you with reassurance, silently telling you to do as you please. You feel as if no one else exists bare for him and you in that moment. You watch as he puts his book down, staring at the three empty caskets before him. He steps from the stand and walks down to them, folding his hands.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven," he says quietly in a gentle hum. You look over to see that even Sam has her head bowed. The pastor is still staring at you blankly as he continues his prayers.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us," he murmurs, closing his eyes. You suck in a sharp breath as you look up the posted pictures of Roth, Grim, and Alex hanging on the mantle behind him, memorial wreathes tied around the frames. Alex's face is staring at you with a timid, sheepish smile as he breaks free of the photo.

"Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Alex rolls his eyes at the pastor and laughs, shaking his head. He places his hand behind him and somehow manages to pull at something. Before you know it, he has somehow managed to get his computer out, chuckling as he shows you his screen, full of coding. C++ programming was as far as you could get, really. Alex begins typing into his computer, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as the world around you pauses. He finishes quickly, turning the laptop around for you to read the screen. The screen has a bunch of pastel colours dancing around, and in the middle there's a giant block text. He has a beaming grin on his face as he stares at you with love and affection. Your heart pulls in remorse and happiness as you read his message.

_Lara Croft, you are my hero._

"For thine is the Kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever."

Alex looks over to the other two caskets, sighing. He turns his head over to the pictures of his fallen friends, a smile lighting up his face once more. Roth is there with you now, and so is Grim. All three of them are there, reminding you that you're not alone. Roth and Grim are standing together, arms looped around each other's shoulders like the good friends they'd always been. You see a pint of beer in Grim's hand and a lazy smile on Roth's face as he ruffles Grim's hair with a playful tease. Grim raises his glass and nods to you, grinning to expose his teeth as he tosses you a signature wink. Alex laughs and points at him in approval, whereas Roth rolls his eyes at him. He glances down at Reyes, a warm sparkle in his teary eyes as his eyes soften with love. He gives her a look full of affection and adoration as his stare locks onto his lover. He then sees Alisha and takes a sharp breath before he smiles, tears welling in his eyes. Finally, he cocks his head slowly to meet your gaze, a smaller, deeper smile painting his cracked lips.

_I'm damned proud of you girl,_ you hear him whisper, _you did it. You led them home._

"Amen," the pastor says, finishing the prayer. You blink as there's a unanimous hum of 'Amen' that ripples through the small crowd of the deceased's family and friends. You glance back up at the pictures, but Alex, Roth, and Grim are gone. Only their photographed faces look at you emptily. You swallow thickly, glancing back to Sam, but she doesn't look to have noticed, as her eyes are glued to the coffins with a solemn expression.

The bagpipes sound, and suddenly everyone is standing. Startled, you stumble to your feet. Sam's arm winds around yours calmly, providing you with support as the soldiers from Roth and Grim's old battalion head on in to grab at the caskets. The bagpiper leads them out into the graveyard, with everyone following in tow in a graved silence. You stick close to Sam, your eyes plastered to the slick grass squishing beneath your dress shoes.

Eventually, everyone arrives at the grave plots. The soldiers attach the caskets to the pulleys before they take a step back, grabbing at their rifles. Something inside your stiffens in reflex, as if at any moment one of them will pull the gun on you. You grip Sam tightly beside you and she coos gently in your ear. You relax slightly, but your shoulders are still tense. The man with the most medals and ribbons steps to the side, staring down at the men with guns.

"Today, we stand by our fallen brothers who'd given their lives and their souls to save those of us here today," the commander starts, his voice calm and steady as the rain continues to pound upon the umbrellas. You and Sam had abandoned yours long ago, but neither of you seem to mind as the cool liquid drenches your clothes.

"They were friends, fathers, sons," he lists as you look to Reyes, Alisha, Eileen, and Maria and Peter. The commander clears his throat as he looks to the two caskets of his fallen comrades.

"They were leaders, white knights that gave hope and inspiration to so many," the commander says as he bows his head in respect, "and may they live on in the same legacy they'd created and left upon this earth."

There's a moment of silence that passes over the crowd. The rain beats down on your face, mixing with your tears as you take a sharp breath. The lieutenant commander steps forward with the pressed uniforms and a folded American flag. The commander takes the flag and marches up to Peter and Maria, bowing his head as he hands it to Alex's mother. You watch her hands tremble as they take the cloth from his hands. Peter squeezes his wife's shoulder as she begins to cry, her shoulders quivering. The quieted sobs crackle through the air like lightening.

The commander takes the next item, one of the uniforms, and walks up to Eileen. He fires off a crisp salute as he nods at her. There are tears in his eyes as Eileen takes the uniform from him. She says nothing, but you watch as her husband comforts her the same way Peter had done for Maria. She forces herself to stay strong despite the situation. You feel something stab at your lungs as the commander reaches for the last folded uniform. There's some hesitance in his steps as he approaches Reyes, his expression mournful.

"He taught me all I know," he murmurs as he hands Reyes the folded uniform softly. Reyes says nothing as she takes a deep breath and accepts it. Beside her, Alisha tenses up at the sight of the uniform. The man snaps a salute, a single tear running down the side of his cheek. Reyes looks a the pressed cloth for a moment before she hugs it close to her, ducking her head into the material as she sobs. Alisha's hand rests tentatively upon the crook of her elbow, her eyes softened by grief and sorrow. She looks at you for a split second and you swear you can hear her heart breaking.

The commander returns to his spot in front of the line of soldiers. They have their guns resting at their sides, their chins pointed up and their backs straightened in a dignified manner. The man takes a minute to collect himself before he moves his hands behind his back, holding them there tightly. He takes a deep breath, looking out over the crowd that watches him with solemn eyes. His gaze stops on you and you shudder, fighting off another round of sobs from breaking you down. He gives you an empathetic nod before he turns back to his squadron, squaring his shoulders.

"Stand by, honour guard," the commander bellows out as the solders snap their rifles closer to their legs in a synchronized motion. The commander lifts his hand to a salute as he purses his lips. You grit your teeth as anxiety swirls in your stomach, depression nipping at its heels.

"Ready."

The soldiers bring the guns into their hands.

"Aim."

The rifles are pointed to the sky.

"Fire."

You see Grim scrambling to free himself from the holds of the Russian mercenaries. He's yelling at them, telling them how he'd survived Glasgow. Blood trickles down his neck from where they'd attempted to slice his throat. You watch as he pushes one of them forward, grabbing at his machete as he hurls a slur of profanities at the soldiers that approach him. Grim doesn't even flinch as he hacks at them blindly, screaming out for them to come at him, to give him a true fight. He stabs the blade straight through the chest of one of the Russian men, grunting as he snags the machete free. You have your bow in your hand but you're frozen, watching as he takes on so many all on his own. You could've helped him. You could have fired some arrows, reached for your rifle, found a way across - you could have done _something_ in order to stop him from doing what he did next, but you didn't. He rushes forward to the last soldier, checking him against the unstable copper plating and sending himself and the mercenary over the edge without thinking twice.

"Ready."

Back to arms.

"Aim."

Muzzles face the storming clouds.

"Fire."

Roth's face flashes before you as fire engulfs your being. Red and orange fill your vision as you cough blood and smoke from your lungs. His hands lift from your chest and he cries out in pained joy. He's there, swaddling his arms around you like he'd done when you'd had nightmares as a child. His arms are strong and he's crying into your ear, telling you that you've got to get up, you've got to get moving. You can't move but he manages to hoist you into his arms and drag you to your feet. You weakly warn him of the soldiers behind him and he turns, angrily emptying his pistol into all the men who dare come near you. He's shouting something at you, but your hearing is fuzzy from the explosion. At last, his ammunition draws to an end as you watch the axe get flung from a few feet away. Roth hugs you again and you feel his chest shudder as the blade lodges itself into his back. He lets you go and you fall to the ground as he whirls around for his second pistol, firing point blank until they are all fallen or retreated. He slumps to the ground and looks at you, telling you that you must carry on. _You'll find a way, Lara,_ he tells you as the light in his eyes dies, _you're a Croft._

"Ready."

Metal meets cotton.

"Aim."

Lightening illuminates silver.

"Fire."

Alex is trapped beneath the pipeline, his leg a mangled mess that you know you wouldn't be able to fix even if you had your doctorate in medicine. You watch as he begins to look around the room at all the soldiers that are pouring in. You slouch beside him as he hands you the tools, a solemn look in his eyes as he realizes that this is it for him. You want to fight, to save him after all you'd lost on that island, but you can't. He knows it and so do you. As you take the tools, he squeezes your hand gently, communicating to you in silence his love and affection. He lets go of you and tells you to go, firing his pistols at those savages in fiery anger. You kiss his cheek as sadness and regret washes over you in waves. You leap through the door and seal it shut as you hear an explosion. You call his name, screaming in a bloodcurdling yell, but you know that he's not going to answer to you ever again. You slam your hands against the metal. He's gone.

Then… silence.

The commander takes a step backwards as the soldiers lower their weapons. The lieutenant steps forward in his place, a silver bugle in his hands. He lifts the horn to his lips as he begins to play the famous, twenty-four note farewell. You watch with a blank gaze as all three caskets are lowered into the ground as the horn sounds overhead. The rain continues to patter down, reminding you of Yamatai, of how on more than three occasions, you'd been too late. Reyes is sobbing from beside you, and you can even hear Sam sniffling. Jonah's mumbling something under his breath, a prayer you think, in Māori. You stay silent and still, just watching.

Finally, the caskets are in the ground and the horn finishes the line. There's a quiet spread across the crowd as they take in the mournful sight before them. You close your eyes and flash back to your dreams, in which all three of them had been standing there, watching you with their smiles and their dissembled bodies. You remember their eyes as they'd stared at you. You grip Sam's hand tighter as you begin to cry, shaking your head as the situation finally weighs down on you.

They're gone.

The commander steps forth once more, clearing his throat as the bagpipe plays a simple drone. You already know what he's going to do; it's a tradition your father had once told you about when you'd asked about how your grandfather had died during The Great War. Your father had been the one to teach you about the ritual and its meaning, though you were too young to understand. The commander opens his mouth and begins to sing, his voice raw and scratchy. He starts out quiet and shaky, barely audible over the whistling wind blowing through the trees. He begins singing the Welsh Lament Grim had sung for your father and mother at their vigil. The tune is haunting and sorrowful as you begin to translate the Welsh words into your head. Sam clutches your hand tighter, tucking her head into your shoulder as the commander repeats the lament, the other soldiers joining in now in a choral movement, their voices low and mournful.

"Gafflwn Dihenydd, o'r fuddugol yn wiriol sydd."

_We cheat Death from His rightful victory._

"Ni fydd neb yn ein Drechu, Falch ydy ni i drochu, Traed o Flaen i'r Annwn, mewn y gwybodaeth fe godwn ni."

_No one can defeat us, we are glad to plunge feet first into Hell, in the knowledge that we will rise._

On the third and final time, you join in, singing under your breath as you close your eyes in the remembrance of your fallen friends. Sam doesn't know the words, nor does she know their meaning, but she squeezes your arm in encouragement. Finally, the commander draws the tune to a close, and the bagpipe drawls out to fade. The sound carries over the hillside, reverberating the other gravestones. You open your eyes to glance past the pastor, who stands with his head bowed over the coffins placed in the ground. You see something strange shift behind him, but you can't make it out. You try to move to get a better view of the thing catching your eye, but the pastor's head snaps up as he sombrely calls for everyone to say their final goodbyes.

Everyone takes their time to pay their individual respects, and soon enough, it's just you and Sam left standing at the open graves. You stare down at the caskets with blurred vision. Sam's face is pressed into your arm as she, too, begins to understand the loss of your friends. You look down at her face and realize with dread that had you lost her too, you wouldn't have been able to come back from the island. You would have taken the final arrow from your sheathe and laid yourself to rest beside the love of your life. The morbid thought brings you back to Yamatai, causing a frightening cold to sweep over your body. You remember her body as you'd thrown the torch into Himiko's face. You remember how limp she'd been and how for the first few seconds, you thought she'd been dead.

You grip Sam's hand tightly, assuring her and yourself that you're here. You press a shaky kiss to the top of her head before resting your cheek against it. You look down to the plots in the ground once more, before you kneel. You don't care that the dirt is slushing against your pant legs. You bow your head in respect. Sam's hand is on your shoulder as you wait a moment, kneeling before them. You ignore the fire pulsating through your injured knee and just give them a moment of your silence. You eventually stumble back to your feet with Sam's help. You glance at her with a solemn expression, and she gets the message. She leans up and kisses your cheek lightly.

"I'll be in the church when if you need me," she whispers, pecking your lips. You nod and let go of her as she turns away, allowing you a moment to yourself. You watch her body until she's inside the church before you turn away to look to the gravestones of your fallen friends, sucking in a sharp breath as tears roll down your face.

_Alex Weiss, beloved son and friend, 1991-2013._

_Angus Grimaldi, veteran, brother, friend, father, and son, 1945-2013._

_Conrad Roth, soldier, friend, father, and son, 1961-2013._

You grit your teeth as the pain and loss floods over you, drowning you in a well of mixed emotions. You look to Roth's grave, still in denial at his death. He was supposed to be there until the end of your days. He was the man to walk you down the isle. He was your next of kin, your most treasured person next to Sam. He was the only man that ever stayed as a constant in your life. You're angry at him, just like you'd been at your father, for leaving you when you need him the most. You want him to come back and lead you like he'd always done. You don't know who to turn to anymore for advice, for knowledge, for support. Even when it came to relationships and things he clearly wasn't educated on, he tried his best to help you out. He was the man that picked you up when you fell, dressed your wounds when you tried exploring on your own. He taught you how to fix cars and ride motorcycles. He gave you everything your father couldn't give you and more. You cry out as you clench your fists, your insides curling as you read his name etched upon the greyed stone over and over again until you're left numb.

You reluctantly rip your teary gaze away to look up over the hill. You stop crying as you see someone standing, leaning against a tree. They're dressed in long black trench coat and sleek dark pants. They have a hood covering their face as they're staring in your direction. Only from the nose down can you make out their face. Their arms are crossed over their chest as their hooded face stares at you ominously. You continue to look at them through squinting eyes, but they don't move. Your heart begins to pick up the pace as the person continues to stare at you, unmoving and square-shouldered. You feel like you're in a trance as you continue to stare at them. They nod their chin up slowly, breaking the asphyxiating state you'd been. You keep your gaze locked on them for a moment longer before they suddenly lean off the tree and turn into the forest behind the cemetery. You tense your muscles to move in order to follow them, but before you can go anywhere, you hear a voice call out from behind you.

"So, you knew my father?" Alisha's voice sounds. You turn around to see her standing in front of you, a cold expression written across her face. You look back to the forest to see that the figure is long gone. Something clenches in your chest as you turn away from the lightly swaying trees._ You probably just imagined it all,_ you think to yourself, _your mind can't be trusted at the moment._ You glance at Alisha, gulping and nodding as you glance at Roth's gravestone. The whispers of his voice fade from ear to ear, causing you to shiver with fear.

"He took care of me when my parents died," you explain in a soft voice, watching as she flinches slightly. You take a deep breath and bow your head. "He was a good friend. The best man I'd ever hope to meet." Alisha clenches her arms closer to her chest as the rain starts to soak through her coal locks. You watch as she bites her lip, trying not to cry. You don't move as you part your lips, allowing the tiniest of breaths to pass through your dry mouth.

"Roth would be proud of you, Alisha," you tell her softly, each breath you draw a stabbing knife to the gut. You swallow and continue to say, "he'd be damned amazed to know that he had a daughter as brave and strong as you are. I mean it. He wasn't easily impressed." You try to sound encouraging, but your voice cracks. Alisha waits a moment before she uncrosses her arms and looks away, tears pulling at her eyes.

"He never even knew I existed," she scowls, the anger bubbling in her voice. You stare down at her, knowing that once ago, you'd been feeling the same hurt and you'd been talking to Roth. You take a deep breath and step forward, placing your hand on her shoulder gingerly. Alisha's head snaps up as she looks at you with a confused, but guarded frown.

"I think he did," you say as you look over her shoulder to see Reyes standing from afar. She's not standing aggressively, but you can see that she's got her eyes locked in on her daughter with a protective gaze. You squeeze Alisha's shoulder in comfort as you nod to her with a supportive expression.

"Roth and your mother were close on the ship," you tell her in a gentle voice, "there's no way that he couldn't have known. He… he was probably planning on seeing you after Yamatai was over."

Alisha stiffens under your hold, but you don't react to her abrasiveness. You understand her. When you'd gone through this, you had Roth and Winston. You don't know how you'd have faced it had you been alone. You look back at Reyes and send her a nod, letting her know that you've got the situation handled and that Alisha is in safe hands with you. She doesn't move, instead choosing to stay put. You know that the ex-cop probably doesn't trust you with her, or anything or anyone even _remotely_ close to her affections, as she'd stated several times on Yamatai that anyone within your vicinity had a low survival rate. You know that as much as you'd tried to bite back against the comment, she was right. You'd lost your parents, Roth, Grim, Alex, and you'd almost lost Sam twice. You are the living definition of danger. But, as Reyes looks to you now, with empty eyes and a solemn expression, you know that only you must change that term. Reyes needs to know that you can get through to Alisha.

"Listen," you say shakily, turning your gaze back down to the dejected teenager, "your father was one of the bravest, kindest, most amazing men on this planet. I… I owe my life to him. I know that you may see me as your enemy at the moment, but you have to know that you are _not_ alone. Your mother is still here. Take strength in that. You have two of the most tenacious and determined parents on the planets. You are what your pendant states, Alisha. You are courageous and strong-willed. Roth wouldn't want to see you like this. Mourn, but do not bury yourself with him."

The words are intended for her, but you can't help but feel like you're telling them to yourself. You know that you hold his death far too close to your heart, and if you grip his loss any tighter, you'll fall into the abyss of your terrors. The both of you look to Roth's grave solemnly. Alisha doesn't answer at first, bare for the small hitch of her breath at your insightful words. Instead, she lets your statement hang in the dense, thick air, breathing it in with shallow gulps. You watch as she puts some space between the both of you before she draws closer to Roth's casket. She stands at the edge, peering down with her shoulders tensed. You give her the space, knowing that the last thing she needs is to be overwhelmed. She stands there for a few moments, simply staring down at that empty coffin, before she turns away.

"Thanks," she mumbles, but avoids your eyes. You nod, though she can't see the gesture, as she stalks back to her mother, her head bowed and body slouched. You just hope, as you watch her fingers curl and uncurl, that you managed to get through to her. Reyes' eyes meet yours and she gives you a gentle dip of the head before reaching for her daughter. They embrace, and you can't help but feel a twang of jealously prick at your heart. She hugs Alisha the way your mother once hugged you, with her arms laced around her daughter's shoulders and head in her neck. You may feel anger and distaste towards them for leaving you at such a young age, but nothing can stop you from missing your parents, even fifteen long and painful years after their deaths.

You watch as the door to the church opens, revealing Sam and Jonah stepping out. Your girlfriend looks at you with remorse as she swallows sadly from afar. You stare at her for a moment before glancing back down at Roth's grave. You swear that you can hear him chuckling in the back of your head, joking about some lost football match or Grim's attempt at cooking fish like Jonah, as if he'd never left. You feel his hand upon your shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze. You reach for your shoulder, half expecting to feel something there, but you only feel the wet material of your suit. Your breath hitches as you let your hand slide off, looking down at the coffin.

With one final glance, you turn away and head back to Sam.


	9. All The (Wrong) Moves: Sam

**A/N: **Hey all! So sorry this chapter was a bit late. I had a slew of exams to get through but updates will be coming more frequently, I assure you. To make up for my absence, I've made this one really long! A little side note, the checklist/questionnaire in the therapist's office are questions taken from an actual counselling centre that I used to attend, so yes, those are real questions that come up on a self-assessment. Also, I don't really know much about computer hacking so most of that section is researched but I'm unsure if it's nonsense or not :P Please remember to leave a review if you like or don't like it. All the feedback helps. Enjoy! :)

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**Reyes' Cabin - Washington D.C, The United States of America**

It's been three weeks since the funeral.

Lara doesn't say much. Hell, you don't even see her bare for when she goes to sleep beside you at night or sometimes in the morning, if you can manage to catch her for some breakfast. She's constantly wrapped up in her books and her computer, scrounging around for as much information as she can about Allistair and the lost relics. You know that she's driven herself crazy trying to get to the bottom of this, to uncover the truth behind everything and anything she can. You're surprised she's not started bringing up Illuminati confirmations with all her digging.

Your relationship has taken a strain from the effects, but you know better than to ask her to stop. Lara's impulsive like she'd been in college. Usually, she thinks with a straight head, but after coming back from Yamatai, you don't know if she's even _sane_. You want to help her, and you do, but all the information you find are about things she already knows. She's quicker on her feet, proactive, and diligent. She knows where to look, how to extrapolate information, and though being technologically inept as she is, she still manages to find sources on the internet quicker than you can.

The only good thing to come of all this has been Lara's undisturbed recovery. Being cooped up in the cabin has prevented her from any crazy movements that would risk further injury. Just a few days ago, she took off the bandage around her midsection to reveal a scarred, but luckily fully-closed stomach. The scar is the nastiest one on her body thus far, looking like an shrapnel explosion upon her torso, but it's better than the infected mess you had to deal with in Japan. Most of her bruises have yellowed off and her smaller cuts have healed. Your own injuries are gone, but the there's still a hue of blue paint upon your arms and legs that you believe will stick with you forever. The understanding of it hurts you, to know that no matter how hard you try to erase those events out of your mind, you won't be able to do it. The lingering whispers will never fade. The pain will continue like a throbbing ache in the back of your mind.

After the memorial service of Grim, Alex, and Roth, you'd been talking to one of Alex's family friends, who'd suggested you to see a psychologist that had received high accolades from the community. She'd given you the card with a solemn expression, nodding her head as if to say that she understood the troubles of seeking professional help for an emotional problem. You didn't mention it to Lara, because you knew how she'd react. Back in Japan she'd been adamant on not wanting to talk to a psychologist, claiming that they didn't understand or that they would judge her for what she did on the island. You'd kept the card in your wallet, and to this day, it still burned a hole in the material.

You're currently in the bedroom, looking at it between your fingers. You flip the card over and under your slender fingers, creasing your brows as if you're tempted to call it. That's the thing, though. You _are_ tempted to call it. Fuck, you _want_ to call the number. You're sick of panic attacks and cold sweats. You're sick of waking up to Lara screaming like a banshee. You're sick of fearing for your life as she bats you away in her delirious states, swearing and pushing at you to get away from her. You're sick of the dead weight upon your chest as you know that there's a gun right below your mattress, waiting for Lara to use. Lara's not a killer, but she has killed. You have to remind yourself that.

You feel bad for even thinking about it. Your girlfriend is no murderer, but after the events that had occurred on that island, she's no saint either. You can't take her in public without having to diffuse a potentially life-threatening situation. People overwhelm her and she becomes defensive. It's like Yamatai put a permanent kill-switch in her brain to revert to whenever she feels threatened. She changes, as if she were a werewolf under the influence of a full moon. Except this time, her full moon consists of large, bustling crowds and sudden, loud noises. There had been one time when someone accidentally brushed her shoulder at the grocery store and she'd damned near torn the man's throat out. You'd been lucky enough to have wedged yourself between her, placing your palms on her heaving chest in order to make sure that she saw your face. The man had skittered away as she'd stared him down with fiery hazel eyes and tightly clenched fists. You'd ducked her head into your neck and wrapped your arms around her to assure her that she was not back there.

That's not the worst of it, though. The worst is the bickering. You and Lara will lash out at each other over the smallest things. It's a result of poor sleep, poor mental health, pressure, and horrid memories. You're both suffering, but you're unable to help each other. At the end of the day, all of this constant fighting takes a toll on you, too. You feel the aching in your bones, a dull prod at your sanity. You feel restless and insecure. Your mind is a hyperactive, sleep-deprived, malfunctioning cog in the machine that is your brain. Information doesn't get retained, your calculations are getting slower, and you're losing the ability to think on your feet. Everything is changing all around you and you can't keep up. You feel like you're drowning and burning at the same time and no matter how hard you try, everything creeps up on you.

One day, it will bring you under for good.

"Sam?" Lara's voice sounds from the hallway. You swallow thickly to nod your head up at her. She looks fucking exhausted, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of sweats pushed up to her shins, a ripped band t-shirt, and her hair up in a messy ponytail. You swallow again and nod, your eyes glancing at her scars through holes in the shirt.

"Yeah?" You ask, rising stiffly from the bed, the card still clutched tightly in your hand. Lara goes to ask you a question, but she sees the card first. She eyes it carefully, biting her lip in apprehension.

"What's that?" She asks hesitantly as you approach her. You look at the card and sigh, before looking back your girlfriend with an empty gaze.

"The card for Karen's psychologist," you murmur, glancing away from her eyes as you see them shift from warm and open to cold and guarded. Lara looks to the card with a stern glare.

"We don't need a psychologist," she mutters, shaking her head. You snap your chin upwards, your fingers itching to curl into a fist. Something inside you snaps and you have the sudden urge to take your fist and slam it into her stubborn head. You cringe inwardly at the realization that maybe you've become slightly monstrous, too.

"We?!" You snarl at her in a low hiss with more fury than intended. You can't control the words that spill from your cracked lips. "_We_ don't need a psychologist, Lara?! We're one person now, are we?" You shake your head at her, biting back the rising anger in your chest. Lara's left brow raises as she cocks her head in confusion.

"Sam?" She asks, reluctant for an answer. You look at the card, the number staring at you from the small piece of thick paper. Himiko's voice scatters aimlessly in your ear as you try to think straight. Your hands begin to shake as you nod your head, tears brimming in your eyes.

"_I_ want to talk to him, Lara," you whisper, unable to look at her. You shouldn't have to do this. You shouldn't have to feel insecure about wanting help, but you feel that way, regardless.

"Why?" Lara asks, sounding genuinely puzzled. You almost want to hit her again. You shudder as you hear Himiko goading you on to do it, to destroy her. You glance down to your arms, expecting to see blue as you had three weeks ago, but they are bare of any glow. You suck in a deep breath and close your eyes.

"Because, Lara," you breathe softly, suppressing your anger for grief as you look up at her, "I can't keep up anymore. It's killing me on the inside to keep this all hidden. I'm not silent and brooding like you are. I need to talk." Lara furrows her brows as she takes a step towards you.

"You can talk to me, Sam," she says, sounding hurt. You know that what you're about say next is going to hurt more than any wound she'd endured on Yamatai. Even more than her death, itself.

"That's the thing, Lara," you say softly, reaching up to cup her cheek, "I _can't_."

/

You twiddle your thumbs as Lara pulls the car up to the sterile building. The tires roll to a stop against the gravel as she cuts the engine. You both sit in silence, anticipating the worst. You fold your hands in your lap and sigh before you look to your watch. You have ten minutes before your appointment. You feel nauseous and relieved at the same time. You just want to get better. You shift your glance to Lara, who isn't even looking at you, but out the window. Something stings at your heart as you bow your head, feeling guilty.

"It's not too late, you know," you whisper softly, swallowing your nerves, "I'm sure Dr Fitzgerald wouldn't mind if you joined the session with me. It could do you some good to talk about it." Lara stiffens and lets loose a low growl. You wince and grind your teeth, wishing you could have retracted your words.

"I told you, Sam, I don't want to talk to a fucking therapist. I have nothing to talk about," she mutters in a low hiss, still avoiding your gaze. She has her eyes glued to the building, as if she were assessing it for danger.

"Lara, there's no shame in getting help." Lara grips the steering wheel tighter. You bite your lip and sigh, shaking your head. You think about a different approach, but you know that it will lead to the same answer. Lara's fingernails grip the plastic of the steering wheel with white knuckles.

"I'm not ashamed, Sam," she spits bitterly, "I just don't want to talk to him. I'm not questioning you, so don't fucking question _me_." You feel rage burble up inside your chest as you reach out, involuntarily grabbing at her arm to get her attention. Lara's head whips around to face you, her gaze steely and cold. You nearly gasp out of fear, but your anger fuels the adrenalin in your veins. You grip her skin tightly, pulling on her arm again.

"Lara, I'm not fucking trying to hurt you!" You snarl, letting go of her arm. Her expression doesn't change as you shake your head in disbelief. "You're blocking me out and making me your enemy, Lara. I'm your best friend, your _girlfriend_, for fuck's sake! You can't do that! You can't just shut me out and pretend like I don't exist. Can't you see that this is tearing us apart?!" You watch as Lara's eyes flash and a new emotion is present in her hazel depths.

Shit.

"Are you blaming me for our fighting, Sam?" The way she says your name makes you want to throttle her. _Stop it,_ Sam, your conscious scolds you, _this isn't the right way to fix this_. Lara's voice is hurt, beyond pained that's for sure, but you can't keep running in circles. You sigh, taking a deep breath to calm your anger before you turn to face her.

"No, Lara, I'm not blaming you for anything," you murmur, closing your eyes. You're so tired of this. You know that you said you'd stay by her side and keep strong for her, but you don't know how much more you can take. Lara chews her lip as she cocks her head away from yours.

"Sure as bloody hell sounds like it," she grumbles, rubbing her jaw in frustration. You look back at the clock and open your door, unable to fight with her any longer. Lara doesn't stop you, but you pause before you leave the car.

"Lara, listen to me," you say in a quiet voice, "I love you. I do, but this is getting out of hand. It's been more than three months since we've left that place and you've been nothing short of incorrigible. You've changed, and it's not for the better." Lara turns her head to face you again, a scowl painted across her lips as she crosses her arms.

"Like I could have stayed the same? You're a hypocrite, Sam. You're just as different," she quips back, her voice sharp. You sigh, bowing your head as your hand trembles upon the door frame.

"You don't understand, Lara," you murmur absently as you gaze back up at her, "you're not the same person that I became friends with. You're not the person that I'd fallen in love with. Your nightmares consume you. The secrets eat you alive. You're careening off the edge of sane. I just want you to be okay again. I'm not asking you to do this because I want to make you feel small or petty. I'm asking you because I want us _both_ to be happy."

"Who said I'm not happy?" Lara snaps, but you give her a blank look. You close the door and lean in through the open window, your gaze locking with hers.

"Are you?" You ask, your tone quiet but lethal. Lara doesn't respond. She swallows thickly and averts your gaze as she looks to the clock. She ignores your question as she distracts herself with gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"You'd better get going or else you're going to be late," she mumbles in a low snap, reaching for the keys. She powers on the car and you shake your head, walking away from her. You open the door to the building as you watch her speed away in the jeep. You sigh bitterly as you walk towards the office and take a seat in the reception area. The assistant tells you that the doctor will be there in a moment.

"In the mean time, please fill out this self-assessment," the woman instructs in a kind voice, "this will help the doctor focus his attention on the key parts of whatever problems you are facing."

You nod your head distantly, your head still trapped in your argument with Lara. You slowly take the clipboard from her, staring at the questions with tired eyes. You suddenly wonder if Lara had been right. Maybe therapy wasn't the right way to deal with your anxieties. You grit your teeth and force yourself to stop thinking about Lara for a moment and instead focus on the questionnaire. You grip the pencil in your hand tightly as you read over the questions. The first section is straight forward, asking to rate your emotions on a daily basis. You do cringe slightly when you see that your number responses are on the high side. You finish up the portion on your feelings before moving to the next part, which is far more tricky. The first question stumps you from the get go, sending shivers crawling up your spine.

_Have you ever felt as though your life were in danger?_

Yes.

_Do you feel safe in your own home?_

Somewhat.

_Do you have a good, open relationship with your partner, family, or friends?_

Somewhat.

_Do you experience nightmares, sleepwalking, or flashbacks?_

Yes.

_If so, please list a few examples of what you see in these events._

Being tied up, the screaming of Mathias' men and Himiko, the burning of the monastery, the helicopter exploding, Roth's cremation on the mountain top, the possession, Lara's death.

_On a scale of one to ten, with ten being a few times a week, how often do you experience episodes of panic or anxiety?_

Ten.

_One a scale of one to ten, with ten being unbearable, how would you rate your attacks?_

Ten.

_What do you fear the most in your life at the moment?_

Losing Lara or watching her destroy herself.

_Have you ever attempted suicide?_

No.

_Have you ever considered attempting suicide before? _

No.

_Are you currently suicidal?_

I don't know.

_Have you ever experienced loss?_

Yes.

_Have you ever seen a dead body? Open casket funerals do not count._

Yes.

_Have you ever been abused emotionally, physically, or sexually?_

Yes.

_If so, which one(s)? Describe in short the details of the experience(s)._

"Ma'am?" You hear the assistant's voice calling. You look up to see that she's looking at you with a concerned gaze. You can feel tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving. You look around the room to see that a few of the other people have started to look at you.

"S-Sorry, what did you say?" You ask, your voice trembling. The woman looks to your clipboard, and then back up at you with a worried glance.

"You're shaking and breathing quickly, is everything okay?" She asks soothingly, kneeling in front of you. You look to see your entire body quivering. You swallow, your mouth dry and sore as you nod your head shallowly. You bow your head and close your eyes, only to be faced with the constant shouting and humiliating cries of those men from the island.

"It's hard," you breathe out, opening your eyes to look back at the woman, "these questions… they bring up bad memories, and I just… I'm sorry. I… I'm sorry." The nurse gives you a sympathetic nod, reaching for the clipboard and prying it from your hands.

"It's quite normal, ma'am, I assure you. Here, the room is ready for you. Why don't I take you there so you can get settled in?" She asks, reaching out to squeeze your bobbing knee. You feel like a child for moment as she gives you an encouraging nod. You sigh and stand up stiffly, waiting for to return the clipboard to the main desk before returning.

It takes a moment or two before the assistant leads you into a room, warmly telling you to make yourself comfortable while the doctor finishes up with his other patient. You hesitantly sit on the couch, glancing around at the various certificates and accolades he'd received. There are mountains of books lining the shelves behind his desk. You find yourself staring at a picture of him and his family. He looks fairly young for a psychologist. You look at his two kids, a boy and a girl, and his wife, all staring back at you with warm smiles. Sadness creeps up on you as you realize that you're never going to have a normal family or life like he does.

The knock on the door startles you from your thoughts as you stiffen. Dr Fitzgerald opens the door and tosses you a welcoming smile. He's tall, broad shouldered, has a perfect set of teeth and dazzling blue eyes. His short, neatly cropped hair is a shade lighter than Lara's, and his stubbled jaw is angled as if chiseled from stone by Gods themselves. You watch as he enters the room and stands in front of you. You quickly rise to your feet and reach out, shaking his extended hand.

"Ms Nishimura, pleasure to meet you. My name is Dr David Fitzgerald, but you can call me David," he introduces himself with a friendly tone. His voice is smooth and deep, like velvet.

"S-Sam," you stutter nervously, retracting your hand, "you can call me Sam." David nods his head as you both take a seat. You suddenly feel more relaxed as you look into his eyes.

"So, I'm not going to beat around the bush, Sam," he says gently, your name rolling off his tongue easily. You suck in a deep breath as you shudder when he looks at your shaking hands.

"I've been keeping up with the news. It's a remarkable story. Tragic, but remarkable," he says in a softer voice, noting your discomfort. You squirm in your seat, feeling a bit nervous again.

"It was…," you struggle to find the right word, "_hard…_ to deal with. It, uh, _still_ is hard to deal with." You scrunch your brows at your inability to talk in full sentences. David nods, reaching for the clipboard upon his desk. He flips through the questionnaire you'd just filled out and nods his head every now and again, before setting it down on his desk.

"You've been through quite the ordeal, Sam," he says in a gentle coo, "I can imagine it being it tough. I won't jump right into the events. Instead, I want you to talk. It can be about anything. Tell me about yourself, your hobbies, anything. I want to know more about you, Sam." You gulp as you try to think about his proposition. David waits patiently, an encouraging smile tugging on his lips.

"Well, I, uh, graduated from UCL. I have my Bachelor's in Arts &amp; Science, with a major in filmography and a combined minor in mathematics and economics," you say, wringing your hands together. David nods smiling again to prod you into continuing your introduction. You clear your throat and adjust your self upon the seat. You rifle through your brain, trying to find some decent information._ God,_ you think,_ you can't even remember basic information about yourself._

Who even _are_ you?

"I'm an only child of Portuguese and Japanese descent, but I grew up in America. I wasn't ever in one place at once, as we moved quite a bit. My family's got estate in almost every continent, so we'd be on the move constantly. My mom travelled a lot and my dad is the CEO of a multi-media corporation," you say, taking a deep breath. David watches in silence, wanting more. _Think, Sam,_ you chide yourself, _what else is there that's even _remotely_ interesting about you?_ Suddenly, you remember something as you nod your head up. "My dad taught me to play chess, and for awhile when I was younger, I used to play for leagues and stuff. I'm still pretty good at it, actually." David raises his brow.

"Would you fancy a match?" He asks. You frown, cocking your head to the side in confusion. A match? Of chess? _Now_? He chuckles warmly as he stands up and reaches for a small box at the shelves. He blows the dust off and opens it up, bringing out the chess board and the pieces. He smiles at your surprised expression.

"Um, no disrespect or anything, Doc, but aren't we supposed to be doing counselling related things?" You ask, bewildered as he pulls up the table in front of you, setting the board down. "I mean, shouldn't you be asking me about my feelings or the reason why I'm here?"

"I know why you're here, Sam," he says, setting up the pieces as he glances up at you. He leans back in the chair as he watches you with a knowing gaze.

"You're here because you're lost. You're struggling to find yourself. After traumatic experiences like this, we lose the essence of who we really are, or in your case, once _were_," he says in a calm, steady voice. He straightens his tie and points to the board.

"I won't be able to help you through interrogations. You already received that from multiple police sources. I won't be able to help you through an interview, because you're not ready to relive past memories so quickly," he continues, pausing before quietly adding, "my assistant told me of what happened in the waiting room." You flinch and blush, ducking your head in shame and embarrassment as you avoid his gaze.

"Sorry about that," you mutter softly, but David shakes his head, leaning forward. He folds his hands in his lap as he gives you a small, encouraging smile.

"Please, Sam, you mustn't apologize. In fact, I'd rather not have you go through that again. These kinds of pains are different. They're intricate. I'm here to help you get through this. I know that my ways may seem strange to you. Maybe it's not the most conventional way of dealing with your experiences, but it's safer than diving head first into your trauma." You digest his words for a few seconds before you look down at the board. You still seem unsure, so he smiles again, pointing to the chessboard, nodding his head.

"Think of it as testing the waters," he says gently, "it's like we're experimenting with what you are able to take and what you aren't. The chess is played for a distraction. If you can focus parts of your brain elsewhere, getting to the core of your problems might be easier. If it doesn't work, we can put it away and try something else. How does that sound?" You still seem hesitant, but you mull over his words and understand that it might be a better alternative approach.

"Okay," you murmur, sighing as you reach for the pawn, "but I'm a little rusty, I'll warn you in advance." David smiles again as you make the first move. He moves his own pawn forward as a quick response.

"It's no worries, Sam," he says softly as you move your pawn again. "I've not played since my junior year of high school. You may be able to win in the first eight or so moves." You watch his response, his pawn directly diagonal to yours. You don't rise to the bait however. Instead, move another pawn. David raises his brow in surprise and takes your piece with a quick motion, seeming satisfied with his decision.

"You know," you mumble as you move another pawn, "my dad would always tell me how quickly people get excited by taking the first pawn. He used to tell me, _Sam, you mustn't ever let your confidence take away your knowledge of the game. Chess isn't about who wins the fastest way, it's about who wins the smartest way._" David pauses as he sees another pawn, letting your words sink in. He resists the urge to take your piece and instead moves his knight.

"Are you close with your father?" He asks absently as you take his pawn. You shrug.

"Depends on your definition of close," you say quietly, glancing back up at him. You watch as David's eyes narrow slightly as he leans back.

"Do you talk much?"

"We used to," you say, running your fingers over the pawn in your hand, liking the feel of how the cold stone grounds you and makes you feel safe, "but after I signed on the deal for the expedition in Japan, he had been distant. He wasn't too fond of me using my uncle's money to fund it, nor was he happy that I was going to be part of Whitman's production team as the primary camerawoman and director." David moves his knight again, closer to your pawns.

"Why is that?" He asks as you find an opening between his pawns and the king. You look to the board and strategically plan your next move. You take one of his pawns as you clear your throat.

"His company rivalled the one that funded _Whitman's World_. He… he had tried to warn me about getting involved with them, but I didn't listen. I… I should have listened," you whisper, your voice cracking as you remember how disappointed and frustrated he'd been with you. Remorse tugs at your heartstrings as you remembered how worried he'd been at the hospital. You watch as David falls for your bait, taking a pawn but leaving his king exposed.

"I made a choice," you say as you move your queen and place him in a check. David's eyes widen as he realizes how quickly you've managed to throw him into a corner. He struggles to find a solution, but there is none.

It's over, you won.

"Seems you did," he says in a distant voice, impressed at how quickly you'd beat him. He nods his head up to you before he looks back to the chess board with a slight smile.

"Five moves on the first go? Not bad," he says, and you duck your head, flushing slightly.

"Thanks," you mumble, rubbing the back of your head as you watch him reset the board. He sits back and nods at you with a smile. You look back to the chessboard and bite your lip. David pauses as he waits for you to speak, but no words come out. He realizes that you're unsure and clears his throat gently, drawing your attention back to him.

"What do you want to talk about next?" He asks softly. You have so many things you want to address, but you choke up on the serious ones. You keep flashing back to Lara, to your arguments, her nightmares, the relationship that hangs on by a thread.

"My girlfriend," you murmur as you slide a pawn forward. "I want to talk about Lara."

"College best friends turned lovers, right?" He asks as he moves his own pawn, a little more hesitantly than he'd done before. You flinch and he stiffens, ducking his head sheepishly.

"Tabloids, my bad," he apologizes curtly as you take the next move. You sigh and shrug before you lean back. Your stomach has long settled since arriving, and you feel more at ease.

"It's a weird way to put it, but yes, that's the gist of it. Lara and I knew each other for about a decade before we realized our true feelings for each other," you say quietly, a small, bittersweet smile forming upon your lips as you reminisce over the memories.

"And you've been together ever since returning from Japan?" He asks softy as he reaches for your pawn with his own. You run the calculations in your mind, trying to figure out his plan.

"Yeah, but it's not… it's, just, well, complicated."

"Complicated?"

"She's distant. She went through shit on that awful place, but we all did. She doesn't let me in. Hell, she'd been hesitant towards even letting me come see you," you explain, choosing your words carefully. This information sparks a reaction in David as he raises his brow.

"Hesitant? Did she disapprove of your choice to start therapy?" He asks, his voice taut. You stiffen, feeling sadness wash over you. The words don't come out but the tears do. David notices and stays quiet, allowing you to take your time. You sigh and nod your head, unable to speak.

"She could be scared. It's a common defence mechanism to shut down help, especially therapy. There's common misconception that by seeking therapy, one could be considered weak. From what I've read, and correct me if I'm wrong, Lara doesn't want to be seen as weak. It's not often that you save a group of people single-handedly from a supposedly cursed island." You flinch at his words, mainly because there's an unjustly amount of truth to them.

"Lara's… she's not, well…, _stable_ I guess," you stumble, trying to find an answer as you look at the chessboard. Your chest tightens as you close your eyes, thinking of your girlfriend.

"She's just… she's got a lot of things on her plate. We don't always see eye to eye, which sucks because before, we used to. We were basically on each other's frequency. I… I miss that. I miss being able to tell what she's thinking. She's blocking me out now." David nods as you lean back into the couch, wishing desperately for it to swallow you whole.

"Does Lara know how you feel?" You nod your head, before you pause and furrow your brow. You scratch your head as you sigh deeply, thinking deeper into the question. David leans forward, intrigued by your response. You close your eyes again as you see her face flash before you, full of rage and fear.

"I've told her, but I don't think that I'm getting through to her. She's… she's still back there on that island and she's not fighting to free herself from it. She's sinking and I don't know how to help her. I… I can't lose her. She's all that I have." The confession urges the smallest of sobs from your lips as you curl a hand over your mouth. David remains calm and steady as you begin to cry, only moving so that he can offer you the tissue box.

"Lara's so hollow. I feel her pain and I want to take all of it away but I can't. It's killing me that I can't help her. I know she loves me, and I know she feels terrible when we fight, but she's letting those memories control her. She's losing the essence of who she is, and I want to help her get that back. I need my Lara back, David," you breathe out, shaking your head as you open your eyes and look to him, only to see him giving you a supporting gaze.

"Then that's what we'll work on first," he tells you supportively as he moves his pawn, "getting Lara back."

/

"So, how was it?"

It's been a car ride full with silence, up until this point when Lara finally decided to ask you a question. You shift in your seat as you see her face glued to the windscreen. Her tone is neither hostile nor encouraging, but neutral. You take some happiness in that, despite wanting more. Lara's throat bobs as she pulls the car to a stop when she hits a red light. You pull your knees up to your chest in the small space to make yourself tinier than what you actually are.

"Good," you say truthfully, turning your head to watch the falling raindrops against the window. You reach out and trace them with your fingers, watching them disappear into nothingness.

"Good?" She echoes, her eyes trained on the road ahead. You nod, shifting in your seat.

"I feel better, being able to talk to someone." You try to ignore the fact that you saw Lara flinch at your comment and instead push on to say, "it was also good to get out of the house. I think being cooped up in there was what was really getting to me." Lara's quiet for a few moments, processing all of what you've told her. You hold your breath as you wait for her response. Your gaze flickers to the clock as you watch her sigh deeply.

"That's… that's good, Sam," she whispers hoarsely, tears brimming in her eyes. You can feel the hurt and betrayal radiating off of her in waves. You sigh as you shift in your seat to face her.

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you, Lara, because I do, and this is why I'm seeking help," you start to say, wincing as you see her shoulders tense up, "I need to talk about some things, and parts of those things I'm not ready to share with you yet because I can't wrap my own mind around them. I trust you, Lara, but I don't trust the… _other side_ of you."

"Other side?" She repeats with a slight edge to her voice, pushing her foot down on the accelerator pedal lightly as the green light clickers on ahead. You nod, your eyes ghosting over the exposed scars upon her arms.

"You know what I'm talking about, Lara." Your voice is not cold or hostile, but informative. Lara's back straightens for a moment before she sucks in a deep breath and bites her lip. She looks ready to fight you, but she soon dips her head.

"Yeah," she chokes out bitterly in a defeated tone. The reluctance to admitting you're right is evident in her voice as she speaks again, "I do." You swallow nervously as you tentatively reach out for the one hand that dangles by the gearbox. Your fingers loop between hers and you squeeze her hand lightly.

"He's really nice, you know," you murmur absently, remembering how patient and understanding David had been with you. "He's not like a typical psychologist. He's good. He listens instead of talking and asking questions. Hell, we even managed to play a few games of chess. I schooled his ass each game."

"Chess?" Lara asks incredulously, raising her brow in confusion. "What kind of psychologist plays chess? If you were looking for a match you could've asked me, you know."

"Firstly, _he_ brought it up, not me, and secondly, I love you to bits babe, but you're _terrible_ at chess," you murmur with a faint chuckle. You make out a small smirk on Lara's face as she shakes her head in disagreement. You chortle a bit louder now at her denial.

"I am not _terrible_, I just am… unsure and overthink my moves," she tries to refute your claim, but she knows that you're right. You lean up and kiss her cheek, causing her to blush.

"Not all your moves," you mumble in a soft voice as you sit back down. Lara looks over at you curiously, but you shake your head as the innuendo goes over her head. You sit in silence for a few moments longer before you reach the street that turns off towards the dirt trail where the cabin is located.

"So… are you planning on going back?" Lara asks as she turns the jeep down onto the track. You mull over her question before you nod, saying in a quiet voice, "yeah. I need to, I think."

"Mm," Lara mumbles, but she doesn't sound disappointed or hurt. You go to remove your hand, thinking that she's upset, but her fingers squeeze yours, jolting you from your memories.

"Lara?" You ask as Lara approaches the cabin. She rolls the jeep forward until it's parked outside the shed. She powers off the car and sighs before turning to face you with a solemn expression.

"You were right about before, you know," she mumbles dejectedly, looking to the gearbox, "about me being different. I know that you're hurting, and I'm sorry for continually shutting you down." You watch as her breath hitches as she pauses, her brows knitting together as she struggles to figure out the mess inside her own head. You squeeze her hand supportively and she grunts in appreciation.

"Look," she says finally, glancing back up at you, "what I'm trying to say is that I want you to be okay. I want you to get help, and if this helps you, then so be it. I will support you as best I can." You smile at her kind words as you lean up and kiss her cheek again, rewarding yourself with another blush from Lara. Your girlfriend sighs as she looks to your clasped hands.

"Just… you know that you can tell me anything, right? I'm always here, Sam. I know I'm not in the best place right now, and I know that I can be unpredictable at times, but I do love you. I want this to work between us. The fighting hurts so bad," Lara whimpers as she squeezes your hand again, gently pulling you closer. You breathe out a gentle gasp as she leans forward to peck your forehead with a soft kiss. You shudder at the contact and Lara sniffles.

"Are you sure you don't want to try therapy?" You ask her as she pulls away. Lara releases your hand slowly as she nods her head, looking away from you. You sigh deeply as you reach out, curling one of her bangs behind her ear as she closes her eyes.

"Okay," you murmur, hiding the defeat in your words, "you respected my decision, and I'll respect yours. Just… please take care of yourself, especially with all this corporate stuff. We're not ready for another big adventure, okay? You're not ready for it, especially." Lara licks her lips and hesitates, but nods reluctantly at your request.

"I'm not going to stop looking," she says, but glances up to give you a reassuring glance, "but I won't do anything too dangerous." There's a bit of cloudiness in her eyes as she says the words, but you nod your head and believe her, too tired to do anything else.

"Come," you tell her gently, "let's make some dinner."

/

It's been two weeks since you started therapy.

You haven't really talked about anything too horrifying yet. It's mainly just topics relating to your relationship with Lara, your father and mother, and a few of your lighter flashbacks. David keeps assuring you that you don't need to push yourself to relive the darker memories until you're ready to confront them. At first you didn't understand, because you had horrid flashbacks nearly every week, but when you'd tried to tell David about it, you got stuck. You nearly had a panic attack just thinking about _explaining_ the events. You remind yourself to take it a day at a time.

Lara still refuses to join you, but she doesn't seem to be hostile about the idea of therapy anymore. She drops you off and lets you go with a kiss to your cheek each time. You know that she's still neck deep in her research despite how much she tells you that she's not doing anything to jeopardize either of your safeties. You keep telling yourself that she'll find an end soon enough, but there's always one more discovery, one more report, one more news clipping. There's one more everything and it's becoming an infinite chain. Lara's drowning but pushes away help.

You've just got to keep her afloat for as long as you can.

"Dammit!" You hear Lara scowl, breaking you from your thoughts. You walk to the den and find Lara standing, hunched over her computer with a frown on her face. You set the cup of tea you'd been holding down on the table and place a delicate hand upon her tense shoulder.

"Babe, what's the matter?" You ask softly, rubbing her shoulder. Lara shakes her head and tears herself away from your hand, reaching again for her computer. She clicks on the mousepad, but the screen is black. She swears under her breath as she throws her hands up in frustration.

"The bloody thing just stopped on me!" She snarls, crossing her arms as if she were a child throwing a tantrum. You stand by in silence, thinking it would be better if she just vented it off on her own.

"I spent hours trying to find that information on the assortment of militaries Brown is paying off with weapons research," she starts in a low growl, before she waves to the computer, "before the damned blighter decided it would be a great idea to shut down. Fuck me, Sam. This is ridiculous. How can I find out what's gone on with those relics if I can't even get into my own damned laptop?!" She takes a breath, wincing only slightly. You sigh, stepping forward to intervene.

"Lara, take a deep breath," you say softly, reaching for her shoulder. Lara whips your hand away and glares at you. The fire in her eyes is smouldering, but you don't wither under the glance. She grits her teeth as she bites her lip, hard. You watch as she licks at the small drop of crimson.

"Look, let me have a good look at it, okay? Maybe it's something to do with the hardware," you mumble softly, side-stepping her and approaching the computer. You fiddle with it for a bit, before you remember a few things Alex had taught you about jumpstarting a laptop.

It takes a few moments, and a few more disgruntled noises from Lara behind you, before you finally hear that characteristic noise of the laptop awakening. You smile proudly as you step away and allow it the chance to reboot. The screen comes up normally, and Lara grumbles something under her breath. You stare at her with a smirk and she looks away, flushing. She runs a hand through her hair as she watches the blue screen load up the desktop.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," you say with a twinge of playful sarcasm. Lara mutters something incoherent, but you lean in, putting a hand to your ear for dramatic effect.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over my quick wit," you say with a tease. Lara turns to you and eyes your lips, and then your eyes, before settling back on your lips. She swallows nervously, and you smile.

"Thanks," she chokes out, turning her face back to the screen. You stroke her hair before placing a kiss at the top of her head. Before you turn to leave, you notice something strange on the computer that you hadn't seen yesterday or the days before. You lean over Lara's shoulder, peering at the screen in curiousness.

"Lara, how long have you been on the computer today?" You ask as you look to the small little icon in the bottom corner of the screen. Lara shrugs, looking to her watch nonchalantly.

"Five hours, maybe six. Why?" You gulp as you pull the computer closer to yourself. You click on the small icon and feel your heart stop beating. You freeze for a moment as you stare at it.

"Shit," you mutter, quickly bringing up the settings panel. You fly through the different options as you try to search for the firewall settings. You find the link and open it, typing in the password to enter the security system. Lara picks up on what you're doing and leans forward.

"Sam?" She speaks in a quiet, trembling voice as you run a diagnostics test through the security. At first, the program starts up, but then it freezes. Error messages start popping up left, right, and centre as if you'd set off a bomb. You swear again as you watch the red text fill the screen. You try to think back to what Alex had taught you and instantly act on your feet. You immediately go to the task manager toolbar, but as soon as you click on it, another error pops up. You squint at the screen as you read the message in horror.

_Task Manger is disabled._

"Disabled? How?" You breathe out, typing away furiously at the keyboard. Nothing works. Red error messages are continually filling your screen now. Lara's whimpering from behind you. You try going through the script writer to see if you can manually shut down whatever's happening, but the computer is stuck. You swear again as the error messages don't stop popping up.

"What the hell were you looking at, Lara?!" You say between clenched teeth as you try to fight back the computer. You're inputting different codes and kill switches Alex had taught you, but nothing's working. You slam your palm down on the table as you watch the computer bug out.

The screen suddenly freezes, and a shiver passes through your body. You watch the mouse move, but you look to see that your hand is not the cause of it. You retract your fingers and watch in horror as the computer starts doing things on its own. The mouse clicks on the Task Manager and exits it, before exiting out of firewall you'd been trying to access. It then goes over the folder with Lara's documents and files. It clicks on it and opens it up. You look to the bottom of the screen to see a message pop up. Your eyes widen in horror as you read the small text.

_Copying items 1 out of 45 to mobile platform._

"They're in the system," you choke out, frantically trying to power down the computer, "Lara, we're being hacked!" This brings Lara out of the frozen state she'd been in previously.

"I have information on there from Yamatai!" She says in a heightened voice, her hands reaching out for the computer. You're inputting more commands, but the mouse is moving on its own accord. You press down on the main power button and flip the screen down and then up again, but even that doesn't work. You look back down at the small message near the icon and gulp nervously.

_Copying items 28 out of 45 to mobile platform._

"Shit, those files have reports of the possession, of the Solarii, the Oni, Himiko, Mathias. It's got everything I've researched thus far on Allistair Brown and Brown Corporations, too," Lara lists in a rush, worry filling her voice. You can only watch in silence as the computer responds to the hacker. Lara tries to slam her fingers down on the keyboard in a fruitless attempt to break the trance set, but you know that it's no use. Whoever is taking those documents is not letting up. Lara lets out a muffled growl as she is helpless to protecting her work. You both watch in horror as the numbers fill the screen until there's one final beep. You read the message, defeated.

_Download complete. 45 out of 45 items transferred successfully to mobile platform._

"Fuck," you mutter, hanging your head. You close your eyes as you realize that this little game of cat and mouse has just come to a horrifying end. There's no hiding. The hacker knows everything. You know that during the time that they'd taken the documents, they could have been looking at Lara's browser history, her private accounts, her photos - everything she'd owned had been compromised in a matter of seconds. You jerk your head up violently as you realize something truly terrifying that accompanies this new information.

"They know where we are," you breathe out, looking to Lara. You swallow thickly as you point to the computer screen. "They know our location, Lara. They can pin point it with a simple GPS." Lara stiffens as she looks back to the computer, only for her shocked face to turn into one of anger and fear. You follow her gaze to see that the hacker has opened up the notepad.

The line flickers, but nothing has been typed yet. You and Lara wait with bated breaths as you watch the mouse hover over the line. The silence around you is dense with trepidation. A million different thoughts are whirring through your head. You're praying that the hacker is just some stupid teenager in his parent's basement looking for someone's life to fuck up. You don't want this to be more than what it could be. You and Lara don't need that, not now. You think that the hacker simply pulled up the pad in order to mess with you, but you're soon proven wrong.

_Stop,_ it types slowly, _before it's too late._

Lara freezes, her hands trembling as she nudges you out of the way. You don't fight her, and instead remain glued to your position. Your hands shake as you watch the line flickering again. There's another silence again, and you hope to God that this was all some lucid prank. You think that the hacker's gone, but before you can turn away, the mouse moves. The cursor slides over to the folder with all of Lara's documents and opens it. The mouse clicks on the notepad again.

_This is not your fight, Ms Croft._

"Who the bloody hell is this git? How the fuck do they know who I am?! I'll fucking kill them. I'll fucking rip their throat out. How the hell do we stop them?!" Lara screams, gripping the computer as she fights with it physically.

You shake your head and set the laptop down as you prevent her from shattering the entire thing. At least with the computer intact you'll be able to trace the source of the hacker. _You idiot, Sam, _you scold as you quickly reach for the computer, _why didn't you think of that sooner? _You fight for the control of the mouse as you finally gain the upper hand. You somehow manage to get into the script runner. You input a series of descriptions to try and pin point the intruder's location, but nothing is working. Error messages are popping up again, but you can't stop them. The notepad reappears.

_You cannot find me._

"Bullshit," Lara scowls, as if the hacker can hear her. You watch as her fist clenches into a tight ball, prepared to strike at the computer. You grab her hand quickly as you watch the typing return. Lara pauses, only out of need to protect you from her rage.

_Your efforts are futile._

The mouse moves from the control panel back to the folder with all the crucial, confidential documents. The menu shows up and the cursor scrolls down the the 'delete folder' option. Lara's face twists into one of sheer agony and shock. She struggles against your grip as you watch the mouse clicks on the option. Lara's teeth are grinding so tightly you swear you can hear the enamel being shredded apart. You grab at the table and steady yourself, placing your body between hers and the computer. You can't risk harm being done to the inanimate object if you want to get to the bottom of this. You watch as a pop up comes to light, asking if the user is sure of the deletion.

_No,_ you want to scream,_ please don't fucking do it._

_Yes_.

Lara screams as she watches her notes and documents being erased from the computer. She's helpless as she watches the files being expunged from her hard drive without her consent. You fight the urge to cry as you watch her double over, shrieking hysterically. She's begging you to stop them, but you can't. You don't know what to do other than to remain frozen and staring. The files slowly disappear until there's nothing but a 'deletion complete' message popped up on the screen. The mouse trails back to the notepad where the typing begins once more.

_Some questions are better left unanswered, Ms Croft._

Then, just like that, the computer shuts down and blacks out. It turns off and leaves you both standing, silent. Everything Lara'd ever worked for, every secret she'd uncovered on Yamatai and on Allistair Brown, all lost in the blink of a few seconds. You hesitate in turning to face her, unsure as to how she's going to look. You can hear her breathing, heavy and laboured as she struggles to simply stay calm. You keep your distance from her for only awhile longer, before you feel courageous enough to approach the truth. You shift your gaze so that you're only slightly meeting her eyes.

"It can't be gone," she breathes out, watching as the computer restarts as if it were fine again. The only difference is when the main desktop flashes on, all the icons are gone. Everything Lara had has been erased as if it'd never existed. You swallow harshly, ignoring the pit brewing in your stomach at the sight of the screen looking so empty.

"Please tell me you had an external hard drive or a USB," you whisper in a croak. Lara shakes her head out of the corner of your eye before she bows her head, scowling. She doesn't slam her fists, she doesn't scream, she just remains ridged, gripping the table with white knuckles.

"No," she mutters under her breath, "I didn't have time to get one."

"Dammit," you choke out, running a hand through your longish hair. Your fingers tug on a knot, but you don't care for the sharp sting it doses you with. You rub your jaw, trying to think.

"We could call the police," you say, looking directly at her. Lara stiffens as she quickly shakes her head and bows it, averting your gaze. You frown. Why would she be opposed to the idea?

"Lara?" You ask her, your voice shallow with concern. Lara bites her lip as she closes her eyes. The skin on her knuckles threaten to stretch with her vice grip.

"We can't go to the police," she whispers remorsefully. You frown again, stepping in her direction. Lara avoids you at all costs as you burn your stare into her rigid frame.

"Lara, why can't we call them? We've been hacked. That's personal information that the fucker now has. We need all the help we can get." You're trying to talk some sense into her unreasonably stubborn brain. This is so unlike Lara. At your words, your girlfriend's head snaps up and she gives you a guarded, but knowing glance.

Suddenly, you understand.

"Lara, you didn't," you whisper, shaking your head, "tell me you didn't do it." Lara bites her lip, chewing harshly upon the tender flesh with the tight clenching of her jaw. You watch as she gulps nervously.

Lara has always been a terrible liar.

"Lara, what the fuck? What did you do?!" You ask in breathy voice, stepping up to her as anxiety brews in your gut in violent churning motions. Lara reads your stance as challenging so she stiffens her back and haunches her shoulders like an animal protecting itself. You don't wither as you watch her eyes go from hazel to black with hate and anger. You will yourself to stay strong and to fight against whatever rage she possesses.

"You don't understand, Sam. I did what I had to," she growls, her fingers curling into fists. You push away the need to run and instead shake your head, standing your ground.

"No, Lara, you're right, I don't fucking understand!" You exclaim, stepping closer so that your lips are a few millimetres apart. You can feel the heat of her breath pattering roughly upon your lips, and as tantalizing as it may seem, you know that she's not staring at you with lust, but pure fury. You grit your teeth and jerk your head up assertively, causing Lara's eyes to narrow into infuriated slits.

"This isn't like you, Lara," you seethe, shaking your head in disapproval, "you're in too deep! Can't you see it? You're possessed by this! Maybe that sick fuck was right. Maybe this _isn't_ your fight, Lara."

Your girlfriend's nostrils flare with frustration and shock at your comment. She raises her hands, and for a brief second you think that she's about to pummel you into a mash of flesh and bone. You brace yourself for the impact, but nothing comes. Instead, Lara lets out a muffled scream as she slams her palm down on the table in anger. The sound startles you, but you don't back down. You stare up Lara, waiting for her response. Lara doesn't answer for a moment, as she just glares at you. If looks could kill, you'd have been dead eons ago. Lara's chest is heaving. She looks barbaric and monstrous. The thoughts haunt you as you find yourself thinking about the men on the island. You part your aching jaw, feeling your throat dry up and your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth in anxiety.

"Y-You promised me that you wouldn't become one of them, Lara," you whisper, your voice losing its anger and instead taking on tones of sadness and grief. You hang your head as you shove away the tears that pull at your eyes. You take a deep breath before murmuring, "I'm losing you, Lara. You haven't stopped searching since we've come here. You refuse to go to therapy with me. You refuse to accept that you are turning into something you vowed you'd never become. You spent a month fighting those men, killing them, _murdering_ them, all for what?"

"Don't you fucking _dare_!" Lara growls, suddenly lurching forward. She catches you by surprise as she tightly grabs your shoulders and grips you strongly. Her fingernails dig into your skin as her teeth bare with animosity. You shiver at the sight of her darkened eyes, glistening with furious tears. You can't move as she holds you to your place.

"You have _no_ idea what I went through on that island, _Sam_," she spits your name as if it is poison to her lips. The tone stings, but you shove it off. You shake your head at her, forcefully pushing her hands off your shoulders.

"If you told me, then maybe I would, Lara!" You refute her statement with your own, crossing your arms to protect yourself from crumbling apart. You don't want to fight with her. For God's sake, you don't want to fight with her. You're tired of fighting and arguing. It's ripping you both apart. Your insides rupture and tear as you feel yourself falling to shattered pieces on the inside. Lara makes you feel so safe and comforted, but so equally _terrified_.

"I can't, Sam! I killed people, I know. I killed animals, I fucking know! I know what I did, Sam, and I'm not fucking proud of it, okay?! Yamatai ruined me! It fucking stripped me of everything I had and reduced me to this… this _monster_!" Lara screams at you, her hands reaching for her hair as she tangles her fingers between those brown locks. She tugs fiercely, her eyes pooling with hot, fiery tears. She shakes her head at you as she lets out a powerful cry.

"I can't explain to you what happened because if I try, I go back there," she whispers in a choked sob. She tentatively releases her fingers from her scalp and looks to her palms, gulping harshly. Her eyes grow angry again.

"If I go back there," she says, her voice suddenly void of any emotion as she trails off. The tone scares you. It's empty, hollow from all the things that you associate with Lara. Her eyes are what get you the most though. The obsidian has nearly taken over the whites. Desolation, grief, and anger fill in the red lines that creep up on her cornea. For a moment, you think she's an actual demon, or the beast Himiko herself. This isn't Lara. This isn't your best friend of a decade. This is exactly as she'd previously stated; this is a _monster_.

"If I go back there," Lara breathes out bitterly as you watch her eyes transition back to the familiar hazel, "I won't come back, Sam. I need to do this. I need to get to the bottom of this in order for me to get away from that place before it drives me insane. If I stop, I risk the chance of turning into one of them." You digest her words for a moment, trying to understand just what she is meaning to say. Your hands begin to shake as Lara lets a trembling breath past her lips.

"This is it for me, Sam," she whispers blankly, "this is my reality. Therapy won't help this. Forgetting about those lost relics won't help this. I killed on Yamatai and I fucking enjoyed it the longer I was there. The more men that were brought down by my bow or my guns or my fucking axe made me feel so damned good, Sam." She growls when she says the words, her fingers clenching into fists as if she were hungering for blood once more.

"Lara," you choke out, feeling fear run through you with the speed of a lightening bolt. You watch as she clenches her fists so tightly that her nails dig into the callused skin of her palms.

"The sickness from that island, Sam, it's still inside me," she hums with a slight snarl. She licks her lips and releases the grip of her hands. "I can feel it, that need to kill churning inside me, winding me up for when my spring snaps."

"You can find other ways of circumventing this, Lara," you protest, shaking your head in denial at her answer. Lara hangs her head as her shoulders droop. You take a hesitant step forward, reaching for her face.

"You can fight this, Lara, but you don't have to do it literally. Nobody else has to get hurt or worse, _die_, because of that retched place." You plead with her, placing your palm upon her cheek as you squeeze. Lara takes a moment before she nuzzles into your hand faintly. Her eyes stay glued to the floor as your thumb brushes over her cheekbone.

"Please," you urge her with a forced whisper, "please just try it once. Talk to someone about it. I… I get if you can't talk to me, Lara." It hurts you, tortures you, scalds you with acid, that she can't talk to you about the dangers and horrifying experiences she'd faced at that retched place. You know that you carry your own secrets, but you know that you're one step closer to telling Lara. Your work with David has already made you feel lighter and more prepared.

"Sam, I…," Lara breathes, biting her lip hesitantly. You can see the literal struggle in her eyes as she contemplates your request. _That's good_, you think to yourself, _she's thinking about it_. Now what are the odds that she'll take it. You run the calculations in your head, sorting through the various direction this conversation could go. You open your mouth to convince her further, but Lara's already taking the next move. Her shoulders tense. You prepare for the worst.

"I've killed so many people, Sam." Lara's voice is cold as the words leave her lips. She looks you dead in the eye, the darkness returning to those warm hazel depths. You suck in a sharp breath as she reaches for your wrist, curling her fingers tightly around it.

"I… I killed them not just regularly, but I tortured them. I let a few of them bleed out. I taunted them, shouted at them to run and hide because I was out to find them. I've slaughtered more people than I've ever known in my life the span of one fucking month. But that's not the worst part, Sam," she whispers in a sharp voice. Her expression is void of life and stripped of innocence, chilling your blood to ice in your veins. Lara takes a deep breath before she gasps, "the worst part is that I _want_ to do it again. It's like I need to kill or else I'm incomplete. It's become a part of me, of who I am. I'm a murderer, Sam. I'm a ruthless killer. I can't keep you safe because _I'm_ the real danger here, not that hacker, not Brown, but _me_." Her eyes bear into your soul, and you're back again in an instant to the caves on Yamatai.

You shiver as you hear screaming from the island. You remember watching as the arrow from her bow had driven into the skull of Ivan as he'd gone to light the fire at the base of your mast. You remember looking down at her, screaming through your clothed gag as you watched those relentless beatings. You remember each one vividly; the first, being tossed over Dimitri's shoulder like a rag doll; second, the heavy punch to her jaw from Nikolai; the third, a brutal kick to the torso; fourth, a hard knee to her nose, breaking it into two jagged pieces; the fifth, a powerful knee to the gut, sending her reeling. They had beaten her as if she'd been a sack of flour or a characteristic punching bag. You'd been so far away but you'd seen the blood glistening from their fists and from her body.

_Dimitri, Nikolai, bring her to me,_ Mathias had boomed with a wicked grin. You'd screamed again when the men had parted to reveal Lara laying on the ground. You'd watched helplessly as they'd stripped her of her weapons and dragged her by her arms to where you'd stood, tied up. Lara's entire body had been shaking violently, the blood pouring from nearly every orifice in her frame. There'd been a long, jagged cut above her right eye, deep and fresh. It oozed crimson liquid all over her face, shadowing the right side. She'd opened those half lidded eyes, swollen from her beatings to look at you. The glance was desolate and blank. Lara'd let out a low groan as Mathias grabbed her jaw, angling it up to face him as he smiled sinisterly at her beaten form.

_Every creature in nature will turn and fight when its very survival is at stake,_ he had muttered in feigned sympathy, before pushing her head away in disgust,_ so don't think I don't understand you, girl. I've just been doing this a lot longer than you have._

As Mathias had lit the flame, she'd been screaming for you to look at her, to put faith in her, but you couldn't. You'd felt the burns lick up your feet. You'd felt the fire in your heart, the whisper in your ear. It'd been louder than Lara's pleas or the chants of the men in the cave. The tidal wave had shot from behind you and that was when you knew that no matter how crazy you'd thought Mathias to be, he had been right. Himiko had been there with you in that moment. Lara'd tried everything to get to you, but it hadn't worked. Himiko had been there.

Mathias had won before the game even began.

"Sam?" Lara's wounded voice snaps you back to the present. You look at her to see that she has tears streaming down her face. You feel something wet on your own cheeks. You reach out to her, your hands brushing over the scar above her eye from that day. You can almost feel the blood again as you'd tended to it at the beach camp. Lara winces out of reflex, but doesn't pull away. She stares at you peculiarly, unable to understand why you're acting this way.

"No, Lara," you whisper, wiping the tears from your cheeks as they dribble down off your chin. You gasp and shake your head as you push away the terrifying memories, the bloodcurdling screams, the blood and the gore.

"You're not a murderer. You're not a killer. Your body thinks its still trapped on Yamatai, but just remember who's body put me through a reincarnation ritual and who's body saved mine from dying." The words wash over Lara as you stare directly at her. She remains silent for a few more moments, holding back cries. You reach up and touch the scar again.

"I don't care how many people you've killed, Lara," you whisper softly, your voice cracking as you wind your arms over her shoulders and pull her into you for a tight embrace. Your hand clenches lightly at the back of her neck, grasping at those fine baby hairs as you suck in a deep breath.

"I… I nearly watched you die on that island so many times," you choke out, the tears flowing from your eyes, "and then I watched you die on the boat, and again at the hospital. I… Lara, I can't keep watching you die. I can feel it happening. I can see the way you are now, Lara." Your girlfriend stiffens as you begin to sob into her shoulder. You let your free hand drift down until it hovers over her chest. You press down firmly, feeling her heart thundering against your skin.

"You are _dying_, Lara," you croak hoarsely, admitting the truth you'd longed yourself to face. Lara's breath hitches as you push more firmly against her chest. "You are dying and I can't help you win this one, this time. Please, Lara, don't let me lose you again. I've watched you die too many times. Once more, and I won't be able to take it." You're hysterically crying now, not holding back in order to be strong. You're falling apart and you can't stop the tears. You can't stop the festering pain. You can't stop the guilt, the sadness, the anger.

You can't stop anything.

"Okay," Lara whispers after sometime of your quietened hiccups. You freeze against her body as you feel her arms reach up and wind around your back, holding you tightly to her.

"Okay," she repeats, kissing your ear and then your cheek, her voice shaky and nervous. "I'll do it. I… I'll go to a session. I'll try, Sam. I… I don't want this anymore. I don't want this fighting, this constant anger, this sense of unrest. I just want peace. I want _you_, Sam." You feel her body grow lax with yours as she allows herself to give into your request. You cry out again, clutching her closer to you as you bury your face into her shoulder.

"Lara, you will always have me," you sob against her skin as she rubs your back. She hums sweet nothings into your ear, calming you down. Her grip is strong and protective, assuring you that she will fight back. Lara's kisses move from your cheek to your nose, until she shimmies her body in order to reach your lips. You pause at first, but you feel the sheer, raw emotion as her lips wedge between yours and you realize that you need this. You need to be close to her. You part your mouth and she fills your shattered being with an elixir of hope and warmth.

"I love you," she whispers between kisses, "I love you so much, my Sam." You melt in her arms as she moves her kisses to your closed eyes. You murmur that you love her too, pushing yourself into her arms. She wipes away those tears and kisses the trails they'd left behind in their wake. Your cries soften as she soothes you with gentle whispers.

It takes sometime before you both break apart and look at each other. There's so much collateral damage done from that island. Damage that time itself will not be able to heal. It's something that will not repair itself on its own, or with therapy, or even with closure. These invisible scars will haunt you both, but you realize that it's up to you on how you will let them affect you. You place your hands on either side of Lara's face and draw her in for a long, powerful kiss. She deepens it and you moan, finally understanding what you long denied and repressed. You know that for Lara, therapy will only do so much. You don't want to chase this down further, but you know that she needs this. She's right… Goddammit she's always right. You still have a chance to not bring it up, but as you run the probabilities and odds in your head, you know that you have to tell her.

"We should still tell the police about the computer," you whisper, breaking her kiss. Lara furrows her brows as she pulls away, confused as to why you'd want to revisit the topic. You place your hands on her shoulders now, sighing as you glue your gaze to the skin that lines her jaw and neck. Lara's breath hitches as you blink slowly before rising to meet her stare.

"That information, in the wrong hands, could be bad," you tell her seriously, "and we can't afford the repercussions that go along with them. If someone gets them, they'll paint a target on your back. Even worse, by snooping into the files, they'll know you've been running interference on Brown Corporations. Those guys are the real deal in technology, Lara. They could gut you using a telephone wire and some pliers. We need to get out of this mess." Lara chews her lip, processing your information. She lets go of you and takes a step back, just as you'd predicted.

"Sam, the stuff I was looking up," she stumbles, rubbing the back of her head, "I… I'd cut corners. I did things… searches, uh, retrievals, just things that weren't exactly… _legal_."

You don't act shocked, because you're not. You know how badly Lara is desperate for answers. You sigh and nod your head, remembering the last chance you have left. You've done your calculations. The odds of Lara accepting your proposed offer are slim to none, but it's better than having no plan. You take a deep breath, understanding that you only have one shot to get this right. You misplace one word and you're done. You open your eyes and stare at your girlfriend with a serious expression. You take her hands into yours and draw a deep breath.

This is it, this is your last shot.

"We don't have to go to the police," you tell her, ignoring her raising brow, "just the right _cop_."


	10. Broken: Lara

**A/N: This chapter is rated M for MATURE for some light gore and violence in the middle section. **Hi guys, so sorry for the long wait on this update. I was extremely busy with moving out/flying home/settling my new apartment so I didn't really have time to write a new chapter until now. Also, it was mainly because I finally finished Legend of Korra and am an emotional wreck because of Korrasami. Parts of this story may or may not be inspired by some of the events in LOK. Anyways, this chapter was written after I'd seen the end of the third season, so I was heavily inspired by the track "Service and Sacrifice" that plays at the final scene of the third season (holy feels, man). If you want to cry on this chapter, listen to that piece when Lara and Sam go to therapy. Hope you guys are liking it so far, and please remember to not hesitate leave a review! I love reading them :) Thanks again for all the support. You're all awesome. Enjoy! :)

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**Washington D.C, The United States of America**

You're nervous.

You've not been this nervous since taking your exams in university. You don't understand why you're so nervous, though. You should be relieved that you have someone to talk to that you can trust, someone that could understand why this is so important to you. Of course, you are fully aware that their approval of you isn't as high as you'd like, but it's better than having nothing. She's no stranger to you, but she's not your best friend. Even now, as she looks at you with her dark eyes and arms protectively folded over her chest, you can see that she's not at all pleased with your arrival. You gulp just thinking about how upset she'll be when she finds out the _real_ reason you're here.

"Reyes," you say, nodding your head at her. Reyes licks her lips and nods her head up, glancing between you and Sam. The last time you'd seen her had been at the funeral five weeks ago.

"Lara, Sam," she says curtly, her voice void of any particular emotion. Sam's hand trails down your arm and reaches for your hand. She squeezes lightly, relieving some of your nerves. Reyes raises a brow and bites back a scowl and Sam winces beside you.

"Well, are you going to stand there or come in?" Reyes says with a light snort, moving her body to show you access to the house. You hesitate for a moment before you walk in, Sam following in tow. You both kick off your shoes and place them neatly by the door. Reyes shuts the door behind you softly before beckoning you both to the living room.

"This better not be some 'couples counselling' shit that you guys want me to do," she scowls as she puts air quotes around the words, but you make out a faint playful tone to her voice. You shake your head and look to Sam, who stiffens that the slight mention of counselling. You sigh painfully as you look down.

"No, we're not here for that," you tell her promptly, but you can see the flash of hurt that passes through Sam's eyes as she turns her face away from you. Wincing, you sigh deeply as you fold your hands together.

"We're here because we, uh, need your help with something." Reyes' brow raises at your statement. She crosses her arms and bites her lip, a guarding expression falling upon her face.

"The last time you needed my help with something, we all nearly fucking died," she spites in a low growl. You fight the urge to stand up and yell at her, but you suppress your indescribable rage. A part of you shivers in fear as you hear the whispers goading you on to attack her, to tear her throat out, to _kill_ her.

_Get out of my head_, you snarl at them internally, all the while keeping your gaze fixated upon Reyes' stern expression. You hear the voices fade as you take a moment before speaking.

"I…, I know," you stumble, turning your head away as you take a deep breath. You feel a hand drape over yours as you look up to see Sam smiling at you encouragingly. You bite your tongue and ignore the pit churning in your stomach. You instead look back to Reyes. Sam clears her throat, her thumb running a soothing line up and down your index finger.

"We had a problem, and we needed your opinion or help, seeing as though you used to be a cop. You may be able to give us more information on our… issue," Sam says, waving her hand at Reyes. The dark skinned woman chews the soft flesh of her lips, as if she were trying to predict what Sam is going to ask next.

"I don't like where this is going, Sam," she mutters, puffing out her chest. You go to open your mouth when suddenly there's a loud thumping noise. You turn around to see Alisha clambering down the steps to the main foyer. She's got her face in her phone, but as soon as she sees the extra pairs of shoes at the front door, she stiffens and turns to the living room. Her eyes light with rage as she makes eye contact with you. The glare doesn't faze you as you stare back at her.

"Oh," she grumbles, scowling, "it's _you_."

"Alisha," Reyes scorns at her distasteful tone. Alisha scoffs and makes a noncommittal hand gesture. Her mocha eyes are like a forest fire as she continues her piercing gaze.

"What, why the hell should I be nice to her?" She snarls viciously, baring her teeth. You flinch as you see the raw pain in her eyes at the sight of you. Sam squeezes your hand in sympathy, but you bow your head, your eyes closing as you remember Roth's death all over again.

"Alisha, please stop. This is not the right place or time," Reyes says through a strained voice. Alisha shakes her head and marches over to stand in front of you with a fiery glare.

"No! No, I'm not going to stop, _mother_! She took away my father! She took away _your_ lover! How can you not be mad at her? I'm goddamn fucking furious and I have every right to be. She took everything away from me!" Alisha screams, staring at her mother with a piercing glare. Reyes stands up, her eyes watery with rage and sorrow.

"Alisha, stop!" Reyes' roars, clenching her fists. Alisha shakes her head as she bolts back to the front of the room, slipping on her shoes before opening the door.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Reyes demands, maneuvering around the couch to try and get to her daughter. The young girl's grip upon the metal doorknob doesn't falter as Alisha mutters, "out. I'll be back later." Reyes head snaps up, but before she can say anything, she's out of the door, slamming the wooden frame behind her in her fury.

"We… we can come back later," Sam says, rubbing the back of her head as she looks between you and Reyes, who is now standing at the door with a sad expression painted on her face.

"No," Reyes says in a hushed whisper, turning around to face you. She takes a deep breath before she sits back down on the couch, defeated. She avoids your gaze as she sighs, "just… get it over with. What's wrong?"

Sam looks to you, wordlessly asking who should be the bearer of the news. You keep your glaze glued to the floor, offering no response to your girlfriend. Sam, seeing as though you refuse to answer her, takes a deep breath before turning to face Reyes with a serious expression. Her hand squeezes yours again as she takes a moment to assemble the words in her mind. She comes up with a suitable explanation quickly, nodding her head.

"Do you remember how we'd been researching things about Brown Corporations and those lost relics from Yamatai?" Sam asks quietly, trying to gauge Reyes' reaction from the start. Reyes stays stoic and emotionless, but offers a bleak nod. Sam clears her throat before continuing precariously.

"Well, we were in the middle of doing some research yesterday, but something happened to our computer," Sam says, trailing off for a moment before she sucks in a deep breath. Reyes' brow raises in concern now, her eyes flashing as she glances between the two of you suspiciously.

"What happened?" She asks in a voice made of lead. You nod your head up, acknowledging her with a desolate gaze of your own. Reyes stiffens when she sees your facial expression.

"We were hacked," you say bluntly, "we lost everything." Reyes looks confused for a moment as she puts her hand on her chin, her index finger rubbing up and down her jawline.

"Remind me again why that's a bad thing? Hackers are pricks most of the time. Besides, whatever you got they could've got on their own, right?" She asks with a gentle tip of her head. You gulp nervously as you rub the back of your head.

"This guy was seriously something else," you stumble on your words as you wince, "because they had been talking with us via the notepad. The stuff they said… it was fucked up, Reyes."

"Fucked up how?" Reyes asks, her brow raised in concern. You go to answer, but as you part your mouth, no words come out. You can't just drop it on her that you'd been downloading illegal files that could put the both of you in prison should the feds find out. You have to be careful, and you know that right now, you can't afford a slip up. You swallow the nerves as best as you can, but nothing works. Reyes' gaze narrows upon you as she sucks in a sharp breath. Sam squeezes your hand and sighs, nodding her head up so that her eyes land upon the chocolate orbs of the ex-cop.

"They kept telling us to not look at the information, that we were making a mistake," Sam cuts in and explains, her voice slightly shaky as she relives the previous memories. Reyes' scoffs nonchalantly.

"To be honest, I'm with them," she snorts, waving her hand at the two of you, "whatever you guys are doing is some serious bullshit if it's attracting hackers, Lara. You should know by now it's not worth meddling in business that's not of your concern." You grit your teeth in frustration as you clench Sam's hand tighter to your arm.

"Fuck off, Reyes," you snarl, "this isn't about making more trouble. It's about _preventing_ more trouble from ensuing. We were trapped on Yamatai with those fucking savages, but this is different. This is your home, and if something bad were to happen here, how would you deal with it? How would you be able to cope if something were to happen to Alisha?"

Reyes snaps.

"Lara, there would be none of that had we'd not gone to Yamatai in the first place," the older woman growls, standing again, crossing her arms with fury. "It's because of your love of fucking exploring that we ended up as fucked as we are now. Give me one damned good reason why I owe you anything." Your eyes light with fire as you stare the dark skinned woman down with a furious glare.

"Because," you say in a low, sharp voice, "I saved your _life_."

Reyes bites the inside of her cheek at your bold, but true statement. She sighs deeply, looking between you and Sam with a conflicted glance. Rage bellows through your frame, and for some terrifying reason, you want nothing more than to reach out and throttle her with every ounce of strength in your body. Your fingers clench into tight fists, noticed by a cautious Reyes. The older woman takes a deep breath and loosens her shoulders disarmingly before looking to the floor.

"You wanna cash that favour in now?" Reyes' voice is cold as she speaks, her head jutting up so that your gazes can meet; ice meets fire as silence blankets the both of you. You see Sam shudder out of the corner of your eye, but you nod your head regardless, keeping your shoulders squared defensively. Reyes' lips flatten into a line at the move.

"Fine," she mutters, waving her hand in a noncommittal fashion, "but this makes us even."

"Square," you reply with the same lack of emotion to your voice. Reyes grunts before she sits down, crossing her legs as her brows furrow. You take a seat and Sam's arm winds around yours.

"I've got a close friend," the ex-cop states, nodding her head, "she's ex-military. Hell of a soldier but a tech genius. She should be able to get a start on this. The woman could hack a cell phone just from looking at it once, ha. She'll probably crack whatever case you have in a matter of minutes." The faint ghost of a smile plays at Reyes' lips as she reminisces over her friend. Sam nods her head in agreement as she leans forward.

"Great, when do we meet her?" Sam asks in a chipper tone. Whatever smirk that had been present upon Reyes' face is soon demolished as her eyes darken.

"I am not so certain that would be a good idea. She's a little… estranged, for the lack of a better word, from society at the moment. The war took its toll on her," Reyes replies, biting her lip, before trailing off in a murmured whisper, "amongst other things." Your brow raises in concern as you cross your arms defensively. Reyes' flinches, and before you can go to protest, she throws her hands up in a disarming gesture.

"Look, you'll get your information. Leave it at that, okay?" Reyes says affirmatively, nodding her head at you. You sigh and submit, realizing that limited, and albeit shady help, is better than no help at all. Sam reaches for the bag that you'd brought and fishes out the computer, handing it to Reyes, who accepts it with a grunt.

"Thanks again," Sam says quietly as you both stand, "for understanding." Reyes shakes her head, setting the laptop down on the couch before escorting the two of you towards the door.

"I don't understand," Reyes mutters as she opens the door, "and I don't want to."

/

Sam pushes the steaming cup of tea in your direction, but you don't move. You can't help but continually think about the conversation between you and Reyes. You hang your head and close your eyes, but instantly, you're faced with Alisha's burning gaze, her piercing glare as she blames you for her father's death. Your body shudders and a forced cry makes its way out of your throat. You fight the urge to break down and cry at the memory, and instead you sit up straight, your gaze fixed on the slow stream of steam leaving the black mug.

"Hey Lara?" Sam's voice is distant, but you shake yourself out of whatever insecurity you'd been in previously to nod your head up at her. She clears her throat nervously as she wrings her hand around her coffee cup with hesitation. Her throat bobs as she swallows nervously.

"Are you still coming today?" Sam asks gently, her eyes guarded and worried. You furrow your brows in confusion as you process her question, before you remember what exactly she's asking.

"Oh, the therapy?" You reply as you bring your hands to clutch the small mug with a gentle squeeze. Sam nods, wary of your movements. You sigh as you look into the creamy substance before taking a tentative sip.

"I…," you mumble as you watch Sam stiffen. Before she can get upset, you sigh and nod, replying in a small voice, "yeah, I guess. I mean, it's worth I shot, like you'd said before."

"You sure?" Sam asks gently, reaching over to squeeze your wrist. You slowly pry her fingers off your skin as you shrug with obvious disinterest, taking a sip of your tea.

"Do I have a choice?" You grunt, internally scolding yourself for being so cold. It's not like you mean to act that way, but it's something you've found you can't control. You've developed this other side, this dark personality that's crude, abrasive, pushy; it thrives off pained pleasure and craves the destruction of others. Parts of you curl up in disgust whenever its present, but there's some ache, deep down in the pit of your stomach, that's repulsively satisfied with each one of your outbursts or violent urges. Your fingers twitch with need as Sam flinches.

_Kill her and be done with it._

It's that voice inside your head, the tone dripping with vengeance and pure sin, that speaks to you in a tender whisper. It feels like an embrace from a lover, a tongue gently lapping over your ear as it speaks to you. Shivers run up your spine at the warmth in your chest at the words. Suddenly, the weight of the words uttered in your mind bear down on you. The thought mortifies you, jolting you to reality as you hear Sam sniffling. You pull your hands into your lap, unable to look at them as you see straggling tears lining your girlfriend's cheeks. The festering darkness leaves your heart, replacing the void with guilt. You sigh as you bite your lip, tasting copper upon your tongue as your teeth mar through the flesh. Sam sets her cup down rather abruptly, making a point for you to know that your reply was hurtful.

"You _do_ have a choice, Lara," Sam growls, wiping away a stray tear from her gaunt cheekbone, "you always have a choice. I'm not forcing you to come, you know. I… I just want to help you."

"Help me?" You growl unintentionally. _Dammit_, you scream at yourself, _just get away! Give me some peace for God's sake._ Sam flinches as your fingers curl into the table, leaving faint scratches. "You can't help me, _Sam_."

"What is wrong with you?!" Sam breathes out as you spit her name like venom. You don't even flinch despite the internal turmoil you're facing. The rational side of you is screaming and pleading for you to stop, to hold back before you hurt her any further, but the darkness clouds the little humanity you have left. Sam's pained eyes causes your stomach to flop around like a fish out of water. She gasps and you suddenly feel your vision blur with rage.

_Kill her_, the whisper chants in your mind.

"What is wrong with _you_?!" You snarl back, standing from your seat.

You're not sure if you're even talking about Sam at this point. The question could easily be directed towards yourself, because you want to know what _is_ wrong with you, why you think this way, and how can you stop. You don't want to hurt your girlfriend. You want to comfort her and love her and treat her with the same amount of love and compassion she gives you. Each morning, it's Sam that calms you down through your nightmares. It's Sam that feeds you when you forget to eat. She does everything for you, and you repay her with this; you push her away and treat her like she's dirt when to you she's _gold_. Sam winces and pulls away, fear lighting those chocolate orbs. The sight snaps you back to the present and that gnawing fire of anger diminishes immediately. You glance down at your hands and flinch.

"Sam, I'm so sorry," you whimper as you look back up. As you nod your head up, you see that Sam has somehow managed to cross into the main foyer and is reaching for her coat. Your chest tightens apprehensively as you watch her wipe the tears away from her cheeks.

"Sam, wait, I didn't mean it!" You call out, rushing to her side. Sam avoids your gaze as she stares at the floor with a distant expression. You suck in a deep breath and will yourself to stop thinking dark thoughts for just a moment. You reach out slowly, but Sam hesitates, stiffening.

"Don't touch me, Lara," she says in a low voice, her words coated in betrayal.

You hang your head and nod shamefully, taking a step back to give her some space. Silence befalls the both of you as you feel the tell tale sign of tears burning at your eyes. You clench your fists shut as the whispers dare to return, but you find the strength to push them to the back of your head. The sound of a doorknob turning is what breaks you from your trance. You sheepishly raise your head to see Sam opening the door. She gets it halfway before she pauses.

"Do you want to come or not?" Her words are not hostile, but they're not gentle either. You can hear the pang of hurt in her voice as she speaks to you, but you swallow your guilt and nod.

"Yeah," you murmur as you step away from her, "let me just grab my coat."

"I'll be waiting in the car," Sam grunts in acknowledgement as she steps through the opening and heads towards the jeep. You close your eyes and shake your head as you make your way over the bedroom, reaching for your coat. You look outside the bedroom window to the forest behind the cabin and sigh. Your fingers tremble as you remember the last time you'd been in such a place. Part of you fears what hides in the shadows of the tall oak trees, but the other part screams at you with an almost animalistic urge to run and explore the secrets of the undergrowth.

For a moment, you _want_ to be back on Yamatai.

Turning away from the terrifying thought, you head back to the door, locking it up securely before jumping in the jeep. Sam is looking out of the window, her gaze not particularly fixated on anything. She's simply avoiding you and you know that you deserve it. You know that you're the root of her pain. The worst part, the part that feels like a sledgehammer is being slammed against your ribs with each drawn breath, is that through it all, Sam has never once left your side. You keep trying to shut her out, but it's burning the both of you as a result. You glance to your girlfriend, wondering if this relationship is turning from healing and comforting to destructive and abusive instead.

You shudder at the thought. You can't afford to think like that.

You can't lose Sam.

Sam is what grounds you. Sam is what reminds you of the better things in life. Sam gives you hope. Sam dusts you off and picks you up like you're the only one in the world that ever mattered, and ever will matter. She's told you once that you were her hero for saving her, but she doesn't know that each day, she's saving you. Her love for you is something that goes beyond the literal word. She displays her love for you in a multitude of ways, most of them without even requiring talking or physical touches. It's in the way she looks at you, the way she watches over you, or how she talks to you when she thinks you're sleeping. It's about how vulnerable you become when she's with you. After Yamatai, you'd lost a part of yourself, and Sam is trying to help you find it.

"I know that it may seem like I don't mean it," you say softly as your fingers trace over the worn plastic of the steering wheel. Sam doesn't turn as you clear your throat and face her to say, "but I am sorry… for all of this. The pain, the fighting, the way I've been acting. I… I wish I could explain what happened but I don't even understand it myself."

Silence.

You close your eyes and breathe through your nose as you rub the back of your neck. You wait for a few moments as you realize that maybe this time, you really did go too far. A blind part of you hopes that as you open your eyes, you'll see Sam's face staring back at you with those beautiful dark eyes, her mouth pursed into a form of an acceptance to your apology. But, as you open your heavy eyelids, you see that Sam hasn't moved from her spot. Something inside your gut snaps as you swallow thickly and turn back to the ignition. You shove the keys in and turn on the engine, allowing the quiet rumble to fill the tense air between the two of you.

You make the forty-five minute drive to the clinic in tranquility. Sam keeps her gaze glued to the window, her chest rising and falling slowly to assure you that she is, indeed, alive. You've never seen Sam this quiet or this upset in your life. Your fingers clench tighter around the wheel as tears forcefully roll down your cheeks. You bite the inside of your cheek as you round the corner and pull onto the gravel parking lot. The tires crunch against the small pebbles and you're suddenly reminded of the same sound from the many bones you'd broken on Yamatai. Unable to take the overload of sensory information, you pull the car swiftly into a spot and shut it down.

"Sam," you breathe out as you look over to the smaller woman with a hesitant glance. Your girlfriend doesn't move or acknowledge you, but you watch as her breath hitches. You wring your hands together and fumble to stop them from shaking. You close your eyes and rest your head in your clammy palms, your shoulders beginning to tremble from fear and anticipation.

"It's really fucked up, you know," Sam whispers, the first words she'd uttered in so long. You jerk your head up, expecting her to be looking at you, but her eyes are still turned away. You choke on air as you shift in your seat, trying to get a view of her face, but her shoulder prevents you from doing so.

"It's fucked up how you protected me from them, saved me from that island, from all that murder and gore," Sam says again, her voice lithe as she clenches her fingers into a tight fist. She clenches her jaw tightly before she turns her head to face straight ahead. The faint streak of tears glisten in the afternoon sun, leaving a void in your heart.

"But nothing is more fucked up than how, just moments ago, you'd looked at me with that exact same hate that'd been in _their_ eyes," Sam growls, her voice more hurt than angry. "Maybe you're right, Lara. Maybe you have changed. I've been denying it all this time, but maybe… just maybe I've been stupid this entire time." You wince, feeling as though she'd dug a dagger into your chest with her words. You whimper pathetically as Sam finally finds the courage to face you, her dark eyes desolately bearing into your own hazel depths.

"There's something inside you that isn't _you_, Lara. I can see it in your eyes. It's… cold and inhospitable, like you're trying to build a wall," Sam says, speaking nothing but the truth. You thought you'd been able to hide the change from her, but Sam is smart. Sam knows things before you do, and this is no different. You bow your head and nod slightly.

"I…, I'm trying to fight it, Sam," you choke out, your hands placing them upon your shoulders as you shiver. "But's hard. Everyday I wake up unsure of which side will be present. I hear things… voices, whispers, telling me to do things… terrible, awful things. I see all those that I've lost, killed, beaten… I see them and I can't get them out of my mind. It's tearing me apart, Sam." You choke on the last sentence as tears fill your eyes. Your blood runs hot, like lava spewing from those throbbing veins, tempting to incinerate you with its heat. Your stomach churns again and something inside you cracks, leaving you with that all too familiar thirst for blood. You squeeze your eyes shut and will the feelings away. Suddenly, you feel a soft fingertip pressing against your temple as you jerk your eyes open to see Sam staring at you with an emotionless expression. Her lips are curled into a faint frown as she sighs.

"I can't help you with that, Lara," she murmurs as she rubs her thumb over your temple. "It hurts me, it really does, to see you like this, but this is a fight that you must face on your own." You know that she's telling the truth, but you still can't help but feel lost without Sam's support. But you also know better than to make her another casualty in your own battle. You can't risk losing her, even if it means keeping her away from your turmoil. You nod and swallow hard.

"Sam?" You breathe her name quietly. Sam doesn't respond for a moment, but soon she removes her hand from your head and nods, asking you to continue. You look into her eyes earnestly.

"I love you," you say softly, but you know that this time, love isn't enough. You watch as Sam's eyes flutter shut before she draws a gentle breath, her head turning away from you. Everything inside of you is on the brink of falling to pieces at the reaction she's giving you. A tear rolls down Sam's cheek as she reaches for the door.

"Come on," she says distantly, "if we don't get moving now, we're going to be late." You remain frozen to your seat as you watch her pull away and exit the car, wiping away stray tears as she does so. She makes her way over to the clinic without a second glance. You look back to your hands and feel rage burbling up inside of you. You couldn't save your parents or your friends, and now you can't save the most important person in your life, your fucking best friend and girlfriend.

_You're a failure_, the voice mocks you with a chuckle.

You'd tear the entire jeep into a scattered mess but you don't have the strength or time. You grit your teeth in frustration as you exit the car and follow Sam into the sterile building. Bile rises in the back of your throat as you remember the psychiatrists that you'd been forced to talk to after coming back from Yamatai and had been bedridden in the hospital. You grimace at the not-so-fond memories of the countless questions with which he had prodded you. He had no concern for your mental state. He just wanted to know what you did. You shake your head from the agonizing flashback and instead focus on the present. You breathe deeply as you reach for the door with a shaky hand. You want to get better, you know you do. Not just for Sam, but for your own peace of mind. You're tired of the nightmares. You're tired of the anger. You just want tranquility and closure from all that had happened.

You want to be normal again.

As you enter, the nurse hands you a questionnaire and gives you a sympathetic look before saying a gentle hello to Sam. You grumble as you look down at the questions, your insides curling up nervously as you read some of them. Your hands begin to shake as certain words on the page jump out to you, searing the letters in your mind like a stamp. Your mouth becomes dry and suddenly the ticking on the wall sounds more like the ticking of a bomb. You glance around at the room in a panic, searching for exits. The nurses are staring at you with empty eyes.

Everything stops.

You watch in horror as each one of their faces transforms into someone that you once knew. The lead secretary's visages shifts into the charred flesh of Alex. Her eyes become black and beady with death as you watch Alex's mouth part in a silent scream. You tear your eyes away from her to the man at the photocopy machine, only to have Grim staring back at you with his neck twisted at a bizarre angle, blood pouring from his mouth as he laughs bitterly. Roth stands beside him, the axe lodged in his spine and a grim smile painting his lips as he nods at you. You let out a choked cry as you flicker your gaze over to the two nurses slowly approaching you. Their hands are outstretched and they're saying something, but you can't hear them over the sound of your heart thumping wildly in your ear. You watch as their faces shift too, but their transformation is far more heartbreaking.

Your father and mother walk towards you, hands intertwined as they'd always been. Their faces are just as grim as they'd been the day they'd left for their expedition. You watch as your father comes closer, the space around him beginning to blur in darkness. Everything blackens around the two figures, and suddenly, you find yourself engulfed in the shadows. The only thing you see is the approaching bodies of your mother and father. Your mother's eyes are soft, but teary and sorrowed with grief as her pale hand reaches for your cheek. You feel the softness of her skin upon your damp cheek as she wipes away a straggling tear. Your father has his hand on her shoulder, his equally mournful gaze bearing through to your soul. The flesh upon their skin begins to burn away as you hear a piercing shriek sound from beside you.

_Lara_, your father whispers, _let go_.

You cry out again as your father steps past your mother and reaches for your wrist. The grip he has on you is tight. You can feel your blood cease its pumping to your wrists as the flesh of his palm begins to peel away to reveal the muscle, bone, and fat underneath. You stare down at it in horror, feeling the blood pool over your skin. You want to scream at the sight of the liquid dripping over your flesh but you can't. The anger returns as you try to wrench your hand out of his grasp, but he's too strong. You shove forward instead, barreling into his chest. You turn your head back up to see the rest of the skin on his face now tearing away. His eyelids rip off and crimson liquid runs everywhere on his body. You can't look away, not even when the whites of his eyes run red like a demon.

_Lara_, he growls again in a low voice,_ let go_.

"Let go!"

You blink your eyes again to see that there's a nurse in front of you with a hand around your wrist. You breathe rapidly, your chest heaving as your eyes try to adjust to your surroundings. Sweat beads down your forehead as you start to come around. You look to the side to see a few nurses and workers staring at you with wide, frightened eyes. You furrow your brows in confusion as you see their faces staying stable and not shifting. You look the other way to see Sam standing with her hands cupped over her mouth. You go to ask her what's wrong when you feel something bob against your palm. You turn your head to the source, before gasping in shock and fear at what you discover.

The nurse that must've instructed you to let go has her neck trapped in your grip. You have her pinned a foot off the ground, your hand clasped around her throat tightly. Her hand claws at your wrist again and you immediately let her down, taking a step back as you look at your hands. You don't remember what happened. Usually you only acted this way after a delirious nightmare. You don't know how you ended up nearly throttling the poor woman, but somehow, you did it. Was it the voices? Did they win? You look back at the terrified nurse, who is now shaking like a leaf, before you take another step back, accidentally barrelling into your horrified girlfriend. The minute you see her face you jump away. A new thought lingers in the back of your head as you stare at her teary eyes with trepidation.

What if it had been _Sam_ instead?

"I… I…," you stutter, your throat dry with the lack of use. You look back down at your hands, hallucinating the blood of your father's palms splayed out between the cracks. You tuck your hands under your armpits and shrivel up under the scrutinizing gazes of everyone in the room. They're watching you, judging you, _haunting_ you.

"I'm sorry," you splutter in a cry as you look back to the nurse, ashamed. She doesn't look convinced as she rubs her throat with her trembling fingers. You look to Sam, tears filling your eyes as you try to back away from her. You don't trust yourself, and you certainly don't trust yourself around _her_ after what had just happened. Before it had been the nightmares in which you saw the dead, and now their memories are creeping into your conscious form.

How long do you have until they have complete control?

"Ms Croft?" You hear your voice being called over the tense silence. You jerk your head up, beads of perspiration rolling down your face as you look over to a small woman standing by an open door with a file held loosely in her hands. She looks apprehensive as she checks you out, but draws a breath before moving slightly, revealing a hallway behind her.

"Dr Fitzgerald would like to see you now. You too, Ms Nishimura," she says as calmly as she can, but she obviously had witnessed the events that had occurred in the waiting room. You're stuck for a moment on whether you want to follow through with the appointment or whether you want to make a run for it, but as you look to Sam's hesitant expression, you already know you have no other choice. You suck in a deep breath and nod slowly, trying to regain your composure. Sam tenses from beside you, but you shake your head at her.

"Okay," you whisper quietly, walking towards her and allowing her to lead you into the room. She looks to Sam worriedly as you take a seat on the armchair closest to the window. The nurse murmurs something under her breath to Sam, but your girlfriend shakes her head and whispers something back. The nurse sighs as she peers over at you once more before placing the file upon the desk and stepping out into the hallway. The door closes behind her in a soft click, and then once again, you're left in complete and utter silence.

That's all it takes for you to finally break.

"Sam," you choke out, breaking down into a sobbing mess. You're hyperventilating now as you curl yourself up into a ball on the armchair. You slam your eyes shut, grateful for the darkness. The bleak obsidian mimics your current emotional state. You've never felt so broken, so lost, so hurt. Everything inside of you wants nothing bare for death. Your entire frame shakes like you're trapped in the epicentre of a level eight magnitude earthquake.

An agonizing shriek pierces your lips as you curl further into yourself. Your entire body feels like it's on fire. The voices are so prominent now. You close your eyes and see your father and mother's dead gazes staring back at you. You hear Roth telling you about sacrifice as you'd stubbornly raced off to help the injured pilot. You watch Sam's body being lifted into the air as Himiko literally sucked the life out of her. Everything crashes down at once and your mind explodes. The only thing you want to do is to cut out the pain with your axe, or to rip out your heart with your bare hands. You crave the burn of physical torment, as on the island, it was the only thing that ever reminded you that you were alive. You've never been suicidal, but right now, you want nothing more than to be consumed by the sickness in your head and _die_.

You gasp through shallow breaths as you realize that you don't want to be here anymore. Everyone has their own threshold, and you've just about burned through yours. You can't feel your legs or your arms as you continue to thrash around upon the floor like a dying animal. You hear someone speaking loudly, but the voice is muffled. You find yourself unable to answer or talk, or even understand what they're saying. It's like you're trapped in one of your characteristic nightmares, but this time, you're not waking up because you're not asleep.

Oh, how you wish you were asleep.

"Ssh," you hear Sam's soothing voice call out, but you can't open your eyes. You taste nothing but remorse and guilt on your lips. Your chest is tight and your hands feel like they're on fire.

"Ssh, Lara, I'm here," Sam murmurs shakily, her voice closer now, "please, you need to breathe and calm down. You're not getting any air through." You somehow find the energy to open your eyes to see her kneeling in front of you. Tears blur your vision from properly making out her face, but you can see that she's on the verge of crying. Her hand is trembling as it places itself upon your taut biceps, over your hand that holds your body together.

"I'm here, okay? It's okay," she whispers, her hand trailing upwards to run through your tangled hair. You watch as a few tears straggle down her cheeks as she leans forward, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her. Somehow, you end up half on the chair and half on the ground with your face pushed into her chest. You sob against her shirt, your hands clutching at the material as your body finally fractures under the pressure of your memories.

"It's okay," Sam repeats again into your ear as she kisses your temple, "it's okay."

But that's just it.

It's _not_ okay.

It will _never_ be okay.

You reluctantly pull yourself away from her chest and look up at her distant gaze. Something in those brown eyes causes you to cry out in pain. Sam's lying to you, she's trying everything to protect you from the war that wages inside your mind, but she's no knight in shining armour to your trauma. Your head spins and aches and your palms are clammy and shaking as Sam pulls you close to her again. You bury your head in her neck and cry harder as her hands rub soothing lines up and down your back. You want to disappear, to save her the misery of carrying your burdens. You want to save yourself the same misery. The whisper comes back as Sam's arms tighten around your back, but this time, the voice isn't spiteful or hostile.

_Kill yourself_. It's pleading with you, begging you for release. It's a low, condescending snarl as it speaks again, the sound reverberating in your mind. _Kill yourself before you kill anyone else._

You stop crying as the weight of the words bears down on you. For a moment you consider the option. It's tantalizingly tempting. You think about your parents, and how you couldn't stop them from leaving. You see Roth, Alex, and Grim, and you remember how each of them had died protecting _you_. You see the nurse from the waiting room, her throat enclosed in your white knuckle grip, minutes away from death. You open your eyes to see Sam. You remember the whispers from earlier in the day, goading you to bring the fate of those wretched men on Yamatai onto the one person who you love more than the world. You had self-control then, but now? What do you have now that holds you back? What if there hadn't been any nurses, or if you'd been alone with Sam? Would you have realized?

Could you stop yourself from doing the unthinkable?

The sad thing, the thing that wrenches your heart into uneven, jagged pieces, is that _you don't know_. You don't know how much of this you can take. You're changing into the darker side of your burdens. You're losing the true essence of what makes you, _you_. You don't see Lara in the mirror anymore. You see the shadow of the woman known as the wannabe archaeologist. You see what could have been, instead of what is. You're a shell of a woman. Roth had seen it in your father, and now you know that both you and Sam see it in yourself. You're not here anymore.

You were lost months ago, on an island in the middle of nowhere.

A soft knock on the door interrupts you from your thoughts. You feel weak and sickly in Sam's grasp as you shake uncontrollably, but still your girlfriend looks down at you, wanting to know if you are ready for this. Her eyes are so soft and warm, but also so guarded and concerned with your wellbeing. You feel guilty again, because you'd never been this supportive of her. You suck in a sharp breath as you try to untangle yourself from her body. Sam calls out for the doctor to give you a moment, and his gentle voice acquiesces from the other side of the wooden frame. Sam reaches down and helps you back onto the armchair, her hands coming to rest on your thighs as she gazes at you with sympathy and sorrow. You avoid her gaze, feeling ashamed of all that had happened in these past months. Sam takes a shaky breath as she leans forward and captures your lips in a soft kiss.

"I love you too," she whispers against your mouth, pulling back to wipe away the stray tears from your face. She cleans you up with a few tissues before straightening your shirt. She dips her head and sighs, closing her eyes for a brief moment, before she takes a deep breath and turns around, sitting on the chair beside you. She calls for the doctor to come in, saying you're both ready. The doorknob clicks and he walks in, but you remain unmoving and still. You feel paralyzed to your seat. Your hearing is fuzzy and your head throbs from the crying.

"Ms Croft," the doctor says softly, but you can't look at him just yet. He leans in on his chair, gazing at you sympathetically as you try to raise your head. You get as far as his collar before you begin to shake. You lick your quivering, chapped lips and remain silent.

"Are you ready to start the session?" He asks, his voice smooth like velvet. You look up, your gaze settling blankly on a point on the blank wall behind his shoulder. You remain quiet for a few moments before you shift your stare to Sam, who's simply giving you an encouraging expression. Something strikes in your heart again as you turn back to face the doctor's collar.

Still avoiding his gaze, you take a breath and nod.

/

"Why don't you go freshen up?" Sam says as she places the car keys in the empty bowl beside the door before turning and locking the frame. You remain silent, just how you'd been for the past two hours. The therapy didn't go successfully, per say, but you'd managed to stick through the entire session, even if you never said a word. You'd been too caught up in the voices and the near murder of the nurse to have concentrated on what David had been asking you. Instead, Sam had taken to answering questions, and for a moment, it was as if you hadn't even been there.

"Lara?" Her voice calls out again, but you can't seem to acknowledge her. You're so wrapped up in the past, you're not even certain if you're existing in the present. Sam gazes at you with concern as you remain frigid by the door. You stare at the floor, feeling so empty and worthless. Before you'd been angry, now you're just depressed. You feel like there's an elephant strapped to your back, crushing your body. You don't move as Sam walks over to you slowly.

"Oh Lara…," she whispers your name, her hand coming up to place itself upon your cheek. You don't react, neither by moving nor speaking. Sam's head leans up as she presses your foreheads together. Her skin is warmer than yours, but your heart still feels like ice. Her other hand joins the one on your face, resting on the empty cheek as she pulls you closer.

"We'll get through this," she murmurs, closing her eyes. You can tell by the way she's breathing that she's thoroughly exhausted, but she manages to reserve some of her strength for you. It's not fair, you know it. Sam has her own struggles, her own anchor pulling her down. You stiffen as your heart stops beating at your own internal monologue. You manage to look down into Sam's eyes and you see her love for you shining clear through her glossy gaze.

What if you're the anchor pulling her down?

You close your eyes and place your hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away from you. Sam inaudibly gasps, but doesn't say anything as you nudge past her, heading for the bathroom. You open up the door and close it behind you. You're tempted to lock it, but you don't. You avoid the mirror as you pull down your pants and sit on the toilet. You conduct your business in silence, trying to block out the sounds of Sam's soft cries from the other room. You finish up and wash your hands, your eyes glued to the water running over your palms in the sink.

_Lara_, the whisper calls out, _you are pathetic. _

You wince, but you shake your head. You turn off the tap and hang your head over the sink. Tears force their way out of your closed eyelids as the darkness churns inside you. It eats away at you like a festering parasite. Your flesh twists and burns, as if you're fighting that infection from months ago. You break out into a cold sweat as panic washes over you. You are brought to your knees on the cold tiles. You press your clammy hands into the tiles, your head pressed against the cupboards of the sink as you begin to cry again. The whisper returns again with a vengeance.

_Kill yourself_, it repeats again in a growl, _or kill Sam. Your choice._

You don't have a choice.

Your body swells with familiar rage as you stand, gripping the edge of the sink tightly. You fight off the voice in your head as you look into the mirror. Cold, angry eyes stare back at you in a bloodshot gaze. You shiver as you see the monster you've become. You swallow harshly as you turn away, your breathing becoming erratic and out of control. The whispering grows more intense. You make out different voices besides that twisted snarl, now. You hear your parents, Roth, Alex, Grim, haunting you from a bodiless form as they call for your name. You rip open the drawers and scrummage around inside until you find what you'd been looking for.

You whip out the scissors and stare at yourself in the mirror. For a moment, you're tempted to rip the two blades in half and bring an end to your misery once and for all, but you can't find the strength to complete that task with Sam only a few feet away. You look back at the scissors, the metal glinting in the light. It flashes before your eyes and you're suddenly reminded of all those spotlights from the island, trained on you. The firing of bullets as they'd attempted to kill you. The sweet feeling of redemption as you'd slit all their throats, one by one. You grip the scissors tighter, holding them closer to your body. You nod your head back up to the mirror, only to see your icy reflection staring back at you. You watch in horror as your lips move on their own accord, pursing out a single sentence in a low, furious snarl.

_You're a coward_, your reflection goads with a smirk, _a pathetic, spineless coward_.

"No," you growl in reply as you grab the scissors and reach for your messy ponytail. Your reflection seems undeterred by your actions as you pry open the sharp metal and encase it around the lock of hair. Your eyes stay focused on those of your reflection as you grit your teeth.

With one final breath, you clench down on the metal.

There's a loud scratch as all those hairs that had been pulled back tear into two halves. The lock of hair falls limply in your hand, now detached from its original constraints. Your reflection pauses for a moment before it chuckles sinisterly. You drop the scissors, not even flinching when the cool steel clatters against the tiles in a loud crash. You glance at the wad of hair in your hand and feel your heart jump up in your chest. You let loose a strangled cry as you glance back up to your snickering reflection. You begin to cry as it laughs in a lower register, its eyes cold and hostile.

_Pathetic_, it jeers again, _truly pathetic._

You close your eyes and begin to sob. You drop the hair into the sink and grab your face viciously. Your nails attempt to break the skin, but they're too blunted and your grip is not tight enough. You shake as you scream into your skin, the sound muffled by your hands. You shake your head side to side like a rabid dog, lolling around as you fight off the shivers that course through your veins. You've lost it, your sanity, your courage, your spirit, you've lost it all. Your tears come faster as you release your grip and look back up into the mirror to see your normal reflection staring back at you, sobbing with you. Your hair is a dishevelled mess, with strands poking out at every end. There are heavy bags under your eyes and your cheekbones are so gaunt that it looks like the bone is trying to pierce through the skin.

You don't even look _human_.

"Lara?" You hear Sam's voice call out softly from the other side of the door. Your heart plummets as you look back to your reflection. How are you going to explain this to Sam? You look to the hair in the sink and the scissors on the floor and panic.

"Lara, I heard something crash. Are you okay?" Her voice is calm but worried. You part your mouth in a failed attempt to answer her. You cry out in agony as you turn away from the sink, unable to face yourself any longer. You bury your face in your hands once again as you slink down the cabinets until you are sitting on the floor.

"Lara, I'm coming in," Sam says sternly, the doorknob twisting. You hide your face away from her, fearful of her reaction to your sporadic decision. There's a soft gasp and you feel ashamed immediately. You hear her footsteps, wary and careful as she enters the small space.

"Lara…," she trails off, her voice brimming with devastation. You agree with her. You've fucked up. You're fucked it all up and this time, you can't glue things back together. You expect her to walk out on you, to call you pathetic just as your reflection had, but she doesn't move. You slump further into yourself, feeling like the failure you know you are.

But then, a hand touches your shoulder.

You freeze at first, unsure of what is going on. Sam is upset, you're upset, you cut off your hair for God's sake. You look like a beast, but there Sam is, laying a comforting hand upon your shoulder. You sniffle and calm your breathing instantly, as if she were a powerful anti-anxiety remedy that had lasting effects. You find the courage to open your eyes to see her crouching beside you. Her hands run down your arm until you hear her back thud lightly against the cabinets. You pull your knees up to your chest and duck your head between the space, making yourself as small as you possibly can. Sam sighs as she lightly reaches for your hand. You sit in silence for awhile, the only sounds noticeable are those of your quietened sobs.

"You know," Sam says in a scratchy voice as she traces the pad of her thumb over your index finger with a gentle caress, "if you wanted a makeover that badly, you could've asked. Fashion is _my_ thing, remember?" Her words are meant to be humours, but her voice is coated in worry and sorrow. You don't say anything as you shudder, your cries softening down.

"We… we can work with this," Sam hums as she abandons her hand from yours to lightly touch your hair, now bobbed up at your jaw. You already know you look like a mess, but you refuse to move. Sam runs her fingers through the small knots and sighs again before she kisses your temple. The small graze of her lips brings you out of the coma you'd induced yourself in. You slowly tilt your head upwards, still not looking up at her, as you let out a long, slow breath.

"We could maybe style it into a pixie cut or something," Sam says before letting out a half-hearted chuckle, "you know, something that will make you look as gay as you already are." A small smile tugs at your lips and Sam's face brightens instantly. She clears her throat and continues playing with your hair, the hesitancy and shakiness now gone, replaced by her signature Samantha Nishimura confidence that had been lacking for the past few weeks.

"What do you want? Wanna look totally lesbian like Ellen or something more subtle like Kristen Stewart? Maybe we could even try a side shave if you're so inclined. It worked wonders on me," she jokes again, her voice a little light. You flinch at the mention of a side shave, remembering how Sam had looked. You'd definitely been attracted to her steampunk style in the first year of university, but you doubt that's a look for you, an introverted bookworm.

"Okay, okay," Sam murmurs gently, kissing your cheek with a loving brush of her lips, "no side shave, then. I can work with that." Sam waits a moment before she suddenly jerks her eyes open wide. You look in her general direction, but not in her eyes as you furrow your brows in confusion.

"I have just the thing," she says as she reaches for the scissors on the floor, "stand up. I've got an idea." You let out a quiet sigh as Sam helps you to your feet before gently pushing you towards the sink. You avoid the mirror, and instead bear your stare upon the cut pony tail in the sink.

Sam starts snipping at your hair, slowly and delicately approaching the task with a level of gentleness you'd avoided while you'd clipped off your ponytail. You watch the small hairs fall into the sink in silence as Sam keeps styling away. She takes a few moments before she comes to a stop. She sets the scissors down gently. There's another quiet moment that falls over the both of you as Sam takes the time to glance in the mirror, looking at her handiwork. You want to say something, but as soon as you attempt at parting your mouth, you hear soft sniffles coming from behind you. Your heart breaks slowly, like a cracked piece of ice that you're about to fall through. You close your eyes, unable to turn around and comfort her.

It takes a moment, but Sam eventually calms down. You hear a few more sniffles before a hand places itself over yours on the sink. Her fingers weave through yours as she kisses your shoulder with the lightest of pecks. Her head is heavy upon your skin, but you bear the weight, figuring it's the least that you can do with all the pain you've caused her. Sam squeezes your hand and kisses your skin once more before she pulls away.

"Take a look," she murmurs gently. You force yourself to open your eyes. You stare down at the hair in the sink for sometime before you nod your head up slowly.

Your hair has been neatly styled into a low bob that extends just past your jaw. You haven't known a life with short hair, bare for the one you'd led back when you'd been younger. Your father had insisted you'd have a short bob because it reminded him of his own mother. You'd loved it, mostly because it had been so easy to take care of. After they'd died, you couldn't ever go back to having short hair without being reminded of them. But, as you look at yourself now, you can't help but feel slightly grateful for the gentle nostalgia. Your heart aches as you realize how old you've become in the past couple months. You don't look anything like the old Lara, but maybe, just _maybe_, that might be a good thing.

"You're beautiful, Lara," Sam mumbles softly, kissing the back of your neck as she loops her arms around your midsection, hugging you from behind. Her head rests in your nape as she follows your gaze in the mirror. She looks as old and ragged as you do, but she still manages to smile brokenly.

"Now we're matching," she says with a slightly light-hearted tone as she looks to her own hair, though it's somewhat longer than yours now. You feel tears well in your eyes as you nod partially, biting your lip. Sam sighs, her hands rubbing your stomach over your shirt as she kisses your neck again. Your cries qualm before they begin and you reach down to squeeze her hands in a silent thank you. Sam shakes her head gently, pressing another kiss to your skin.

"We're gonna be okay, Lara," Sam whispers delicately, "we… we have to be okay." You're silently watching her for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of hope Sam runs on. You know that the both of you are so shattered that no matter the therapy or catharsis you encounter, you will never truly be okay. Yet, Sam still pushes on the thought. Maybe she's not as smart as you claim her to be. But, as Sam's arms tighten around your waist and her eyes close against your neck, you realize that maybe, you're the one that's not as smart as you'd thought.

Maybe, Sam _isn't_ delusional.

You recall Alex teaching you a popular American expression back in university when you'd struggled with your computer course._ Fake it until you make it,_ he'd told you as you'd scowled at the computer screen. He'd set his textbook down beside the laptop with a gentle thud as he'd placed a hand upon your shoulder in encouragement. You'd stared at him with frustration and anger, but he'd simply nodded at you with a signature smirk playing at his lips. _Sometimes it's just better to pretend like we know what we're doing,_ he'd said in a laugh before pushing the computer back towards you, _and then maybe one day, before we realize it, it won't be pretending anymore._

"We're going to be okay," you whisper back, the first words you'd uttered since the morning. You don't believe it, but you force yourself to try. Sam's eyes flash open tiredly to gaze at you. Hope flickers in those chocolate eyes as she smiles a genuine, optimistic smile. You realize in that moment, that Sam feeds off of you for encouragement, and in turn, you feed off her encouragement. You're both each other's fuels to your fires. You cannot exist without another, and when one's lost, the other's fire becomes dim. Suddenly, it's no longer about you needing Sam, but it's about Sam needing you.

You need each other.

"Lara?" Sam whispers gently as you turn in her arms. You reach for her face with your shaking hands and pull her in for a soft, chaste kiss. Sam gasps in your mouth, her lips parting to allow a breath of hot air to patter against your cool skin. You lean your forehead against hers as you nod.

"I'm not giving up on you," you whisper softly as you reach down for her hand. You look down and squeeze it lightly in yours before you glance back up at her. "I'm not giving up on me, Sam."

"We're not giving up," Sam murmurs as she kisses you softly, "we can do this, Lara. We've found a way in the past, we can find a way again. Just… don't leave me. Whatever happens, just don't leave me, Lara." You shake your head as you pull her in for a hug. Sam's head pushes into the hollow space between your neck and shoulders as she wraps her arms around you tightly. You stare over your shoulders at your reflection, a new determination set in your hazel eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
